


How To Keep Warm Down South

by Enchant



Series: Drowning In Dick [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anders at Skyhold, Apparently I am insane, Ass bites, Ball Sucking, Because he is the brattiest, Because that won't ever end badly, Dirty Talk, He is the purplest, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Most of it is Asher being a brat, Multi, Overhearing Sex, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sex Magic, Shameless Smut, Snarky Hawke, Tongue Fucking, Voyeurism, What smutty things do we have, Will update the tags once more chapters are up, Yes that is three mages fucking, and that's just in chapter one, jerking off, let's see, like a little bit, there is plot though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5545274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/pseuds/Enchant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian had always wondered what it would be like to be in love, to be <i>allowed</i> to be in love, out in the open without anyone caring. The empty fucks with strangers don't help, nor does the drink, but still he manages to bury those thoughts down. </p>
<p>Until the day that Asher Hawke and his lover, Anders, arrive at Skyhold that is.</p>
<p>Anders quickly realises that Dorian is fascinated by the idea of a love, and while he can't give Dorian that. He can give him the next best thing – sex that <i>means</i> something instead of the emotionless one-night stands Dorian is used to. He just needs to convince Asher that a threesome with the gorgeous Tevinter mage will be worth it first.</p>
<p>Multi-chaptered porn with plot. </p>
<p>Deals with Dorian feeling pretty shitty and lonely, which isn't helped by my dickhead of a Hawke, but there <i>will</i> be meaningful, loving smut with Dorian getting utterly ruined by Anders and Hawke at the end of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Champion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowfire_RavenPheonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix/gifts), [Carapatzin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carapatzin/gifts), [eclectify](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectify/gifts).



> So. I've been writing this for a long old while now. This first part is done. It covers Hawke and Anders' arrival at Skyhold all the way through to the point where they fall asleep with Dorian in bed, all totally exhausted. There will be a second part that deals with the morning after (sex) and a final third part that handles some other (sex) stuff. But I don't know how long it will take me to write those, but for now, I give you thisss. 
> 
> I'll probably update this once a week-ish. It's only five chapters long and two of those chapters are set up for the final smut-a-thon. 
> 
> Anyway. Massive thanks to all those who read over this and helped. Carapatzin, Eclectify, Shadowfire... all the ladies of my DA chat really. Love you guys <3 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Dorian watched as Asher Hawke approached the throne.

 _Approached_ may have been the wrong word for it though. The man positively _sauntered_ , his hips swaying rather distractingly, the red sash hanging from his waist rocking with each stride of his long legs. A smirk played about his lips despite the hushed whispers of the crowds of people that had gathered to witness the Champion and his lover's arrival.

The Inquisitor, by contrast, sat on her throne, the Andrastian flame-backed chair taking up centre stage at the end of the hall, flanked either side by two statues of Andraste herself. Bailey Trevelyan watched Hawke approach, her striking ochre eyes seeing everything, taking in every little detail as only a rogue truly could. Her dark hair was tied high on her head in an elaborate and sophisticated knot. She sat, back straight, with her hands clasped in her lap, a more sombre expression on her face there could not have been. Her eyes flicked to the Champion's lover, narrowing even further.

The mage, Anders, walked at Hawke's side without any of the Champion's swagger. He looked meek. He looked guilty. His eyes were trained on the ground, his throat bobbing every time he swallowed thickly. And he winced each and every time someone in the crowds spat or hissed harsh words at him.

The hall finally quieted, however, as the two men reached the dais – the only sound left being that of Cassandra's teeth grinding at the sight of the terrorist mage and the 'missing' Champion of Kirkwall. She was giving Varric some rather lethal looking glares in between the ones she was giving the two apostates, glares that, Dorian had an excellent view of thanks to him successfully nabbing a spot near the front.

Hawke's face broke into a broad grin – all white teeth through thick scruffy beard, his dark cobalt blue eyes shining as they roamed up the Inquisitor's lean frame. "So, you're the glowy handed lass?" he asked. His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips, his grin turning decidedly wicked. "I bet _that's_ fun in the bedroom."

Varric let out a rough sounding sigh as he rubbed at his temples, clearly exasperated. Next to him, Bull snorted, a grin of his own stretching over scarred lips. It was Cassandra's grunt of disgust that was the most audible reaction to the Champion's coarse comments, though.

Knowing Bailey to have a rather crude sense of humour, Dorian wasn't surprised to see a slight quirk of a smirk at her lips. "I haven't tried, _yet_ ," she replied evenly, her narrowed gaze not leaving Hawke's.

The Champion burst out laughing, his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Well, assuming you don't try to have Anders and I killed in a moment or two, we'd happily help you figure out its _uses_. You know, other than the whole closing rifts _thing_."

Anders closed his eyes, shoulders slumping and Bailey looked about ready to retort, most likely with something crass if the look in her eyes was anything to go by, but Josephine cleared her throat, her eyes wide as she gently shook her head.

The Inquisitor's cheeks flushed a rosy pink and she shifted in her seat. "Right. To business then."

There was a flash of something across Hawke's face but it was gone too quickly for even Dorian to catch. Instead, the mage smirked up at the Inquisitor again. "I like a woman who gets straight to business," he said casually. His eyes lit up a tad with mischief. "Although, I prefer my business a bit _bent_." He winked.

"Maker's Breath, Hawke," Varric muttered next to Dorian.

"I can see you haven't changed at all, Champion," Cullen grumbled from Dorian's other side. Both dwarf and Commander sounded equally exasperated.

Hawke grinned at Cullen, a rather delighted thing, eyes darkening with wickedness. "Noodles! How's my baby brother?"

Cullen straightened, his golden eyes narrowing. "He's _your_ brother."

"And he's your-"

"Love," Anders interjected, speaking for the first time. His voice a little hoarse, most likely with nerves. "Can we just get this over with, please?"

Hearing the word _love_ fall so freely from the apostate's lips had Dorian's eyes widening briefly. Back home such a thing would never have been said so publicly, especially not in court in front of countless people. He expected the Champion to rebuke him, to snarl or brush it off – he'd actually seen that happen in Tevinter – but Hawke did none of those things. Instead he gave his lover a sweet reassuring smile. His fingers reached for Anders', barely ghosting over them, but the simple touch seemed to bolster the blond apostate as he lifted his head to look up at the Inquisitor.

"Right, yeah, sure," The Champion said with a smirk as, he too, looked back up at Bailey. "So, it's simple really. Anders and I come as a package. You want me, you get him, too." Hawke winked again, making Bailey's eyes narrow.

"You can't expect us to just let this terrorist go unpunished," she replied flatly. "Or are we to punish you as a package as well?" she snarked, watching both men keenly.

Hawke's lips quirked ever upward. "That depends on the punishment, does it not?" he asked, licking already wet and smirking lips. His eyes roamed down the Inquisitor's body appreciatively. "And who's giving it."

Bailey snorted. She had to admit, she could see why Hawke had become such a legend. Varric's stories probably helped, but the apostate just had this… presence. She was struggling to take her eyes off of him, which was rare for her. But she forced them to focus on the other apostate instead. The one that was the reason this entire thing was problematic at all. There was a difference between setting up an organisation without the Chantry's permission and taking in a terrorist who blew up a Chantry. One got them a handful of upset clerics, the other could well lose them half the allies they'd worked so hard to gather.

She regarded the terrorist coolly, taking in his scruffy appearance, the unshaven fuzz along his jaw, the worn, scuffed black boots, and the guilt in his sunken and sad eyes. He did feel remorse then, that was something. She ran her eyes over the Champion again. The man exuded confidence and cockiness, those deep blue eyes of his playful and always smiling. Bailey had been warned by the Commander and Varric about Asher Hawke's… _personality_ , but even they had hoped the events of Kirkwall might have mellowed him somewhat. Apparently that was not the case.

She needed to make a decision, but she always hated having to. And this was, arguably, the most important one she would make to date. She knew how most of her Inner Circle felt, Cassandra especially. Bailey had barely stopped the Seeker from strangling Varric once she found out he knew exactly where Hawke and Anders had been this entire time. And it was clear she was struggling to stop herself from outright murdering both apostates now. Bailey knew, too, that Varric was still good friends with Hawke, and that punishing his friend probably wouldn't end too well. But seeing as she hated making decisions, she already knew what she was going to do. It was what all leaders did.

She would postpone her decision for as long as possible.

Besides, she had good reasons to do that. Hawke had fought and killed Corypheus before, he knew about Red Lyrium, and he was one of the most powerful battle mages alive in Thedas. He was still seen as a hero and could potentially win them more allies, too. Even Anders, with his past actions, was still a talented mage, a gifted healer _and_ a Warden. And the Inquisition was not a wasteful organisation.

Dorian watched as the Herald stood from her chair. She towered over everyone in the hall, the two apostates below her included. The room fell utterly silent and even Dorian found himself holding his breath, waiting for the woman's next words. Bailey could be terrifying when she needed to be. She adapted to situations faster than any normal person ought to be able to, but then again, she wasn't an ordinary person, was she? She was the Herald of Andraste, the Chosen One, marked by the Maker, Sealer of the Breach, Inquisitor to the Inquisition. And although she had never executed a single person thus far, this was by far the most damned person she had yet to judge.

"For now, Corypheus is more important than punishing either of you for past transgressions-" An uproar of outraged attendees cut her off. Bailey lifted her hand for silence and the shouts quieted. "That does _not_ mean you will go unpunished… but we have to consider Corypheus a priority. He threatens us all, thus we need all the help we can get. Know that you will be watched, closely, but so long as you are here to help, then I welcome you both to Skyhold."

"So, no chains then? Such a pity," Hawke drawled with a wicked little smirk that stirred all kinds of images in Dorian's mind.

"I'm sure we could arrange for a gag," Cassandra bit out.

Hawke laughed, hard. "Only if you're the one to put it on me, sweetheart."

Cassandra grunted her disgust and Hawke grinned. "We'll be in our room for the rest of the afternoon, and the night, and probably most of the morning tomorrow, too… Do we even have a room?" he asked with a quirked brow.

"Yes, of course, Champion. Right this way," Josephine said with a dip of her head.

Dorian watched Hawke and Anders leave with a strange feeling in his chest – an odd tightness. Watching the two of them being together so openly… he didn't quite like the emotions it was stirring within him. So many – too many – times he had allowed himself to imagine, to hope, for what they had.

"You okay?" Bailey suddenly asked from his side.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" he replied a little defensively. He didn't like how perceptive she was some days.

"I don't know, you just look…" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter." Well, at least she was perceptive enough to know he didn't want to discuss it.

"I assure you, I am fine, Inquisitor," he replied primly. His eyes caught sight of something truly terrifying then and he swallowed. "I'd be more worried about what Cassandra is going to do to _you_ , if I were you."

Bailey sighed. "She's walking toward me, isn't she?"

"I wouldn't call _that_ walking. It's more akin to a charging bull."

"Good thing I've got lots of experiences with _Bull's_ then, right?" Bailey said with a wink. Dorian sighed at her terrible humour.

"Yes well, good luck escaping that one."

Dorian slipped away before he got caught in Cassandra's crosshairs too. He decided he needed a drink. He doubted it would distract him from the images of Asher Hawke in a gag, all chained up… but it might stop the ache in his chest at least.

**…**

"I could get used to a view like this," Asher commented. Even without looking at the man, Anders knew Ash wasn't talking about the view out of their room's massive window. He groaned in response and wiggled his rump where he was on elbows and knees on the bed, hoping desperately that Asher would finally pay it some attention.

All of his worries and guilt had been temporarily pushed to the side – Asher always had that effect on him, making it so nothing else mattered but _them._ It was a welcome distraction after the long journey through the mountains. Anders had been a nervous wreck most of the trip and even Asher's sense of humour had started to flag at the end of it.

"Please just get on with it, love!" he cried, desperate for Asher's touch on him. "The view is nothing new. Or have you forgotten all of the times you-"

Asher let out a breathy chuckle against his rear, hot air washing over him and making him shiver. "I haven't forgotten," Asher murmured. "And it never fails to impress me," he husked, voice rough.

Asher let his tongue roll over the sensitive spot behind Anders' heavy balls, the one that always managed to just, ever so slightly, stimulate his prostate, and sucked on it. He drew it between his lips, his tongue flicking across the rough skin until Anders was moaning in response.

With the flat of his tongue, he then licked his way up front that spot, right up the crack of Anders' ass. His lover squirmed, impatient and knowing that Asher was nearing his neglected hole. The rocking of Anders' hips had Asher's tongue sliding right over that eager pucker and Anders letting out a beautifully ragged groan. Anders' whole body trembled from the contact of Asher's hot tongue slipping over such a sensitive place.

He tutted at his lover for misbehaving and moved his tongue away from that hole to instead bite down on a pliant ass cheek. His teeth dug in deep enough to leave a mark and make Anders cry out into the pillow. He rubbed it better, soothing the marked skin and calming his lover back down.

Anders shuddered as those calloused hands splayed out and rubbed his ass. For hours now Asher had been pleasuring him. It had started as it always did, with them both shedding clothes before the door had even closed behind them. With them kissing, pressed close, holding tight onto one another. Anders had cum from sinfully skilled hands stroking him while his hands were pinned to the door above his head.

After that, Ash had sunk to his knees and his hot wet mouth had closed around the head of Anders' cock, tongue swirling and flicking over that and _only_ that. He had been flooded with such intense sensation that he had cum screaming, near collapsing onto Asher.

Anders had protested then, wanting nothing more than to taste and please Asher. But his lover had smirked and hit him with a blast of force magic instead, a blast that had thrown him to the bed. There he had been since. And there he had cum again, for the third time, from Asher's magic rolling over him in powerful vibrating waves.

But all of that foreplay had avoided one very specific place, one extremely sensitive place, a place that Anders was especially fond of. He was pretty sure Ash was doing it on purpose just to wind him up. So to have his tongue on him there, even if it was only brief, had almost been too much and he had nearly cum for the fourth time from sheer relief that Asher was no longer completely ignoring his backside.

"Please, love," Anders all but sobbed out as Asher's breath once more ghosted over his ass, the moist air making his whole body tremble all over again.

"I've got you. I've _always_ got you," Asher whispered as he laid a kiss at the small of his back. Anders let out a small moan at his words. He'd heard them a hundred times. He believed them. But that didn't mean they didn't take his breath away every single time either.

Asher went back to kiss the bruise now forming on his ass. His hot hands massaged the sore flesh and Anders relaxed into it a bit, sighing softly. Asher Hawke could be a lot of things - most people knew him as a clown, a jokester, always messing around and never taking anything seriously. He did do that, _a lot_. But he could also be tender and sweet. He was also the most selfless person Anders knew.

Hawke didn't have to help the people of Kirkwall, and even though he made light of most situations, he still helped. He _always_ helped. What Anders had _done…_ He shuddered, thinking about all of the deaths that _he_ had caused, not just with the Chantry but with the war in Kirkwall after, with Sebastian's army occupying the city, with the mage rebellion... Some nights he had nightmares so bad that he woke up screaming, feeling like the blood on his hands was a physical thing that needed to be scrubbed off, but Asher was always there. He never left his side, never would.

That tongue finally returned to licking along his slit. Long flat strokes slicked him up, tongue wiggling back and forth as it moved all the way up the cleft. Anders was already trembling and Asher was only just beginning what would be a long night of torment and pleasure for him. He bucked his hips again, naughty as that was, and groaned as Asher's tongue properly rolled over his puck again. Waves of euphoric pleasure rippled through him as his eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a long broken groan.

Asher smirked. That long journey really had made Anders desperate for it. He didn't usually misbehave this much. He changed his strokes again, using fast sideways flicks as he let his tongue travel down his cleft. He couldn't get enough of the way Anders groaned for him, or the way his hips bucked and legs shook. _He_ was causing that, causing his lover, a mage – a possessed one who hadn't let Vengeance take charge since the Chantry – to lose control so completely. It was nearly his undoing. To have someone that trusted him that much, who loved him of all people so completely… It's why he didn't want this night to end, it's why he had been avoiding this spot all night, wanting to save it for last.

But waiting that long, and now seeing just how desperate Anders was for it, how _responsive_ , had Asher's prick aching and dripping with need as it hung heavily between his legs. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in that exquisite tight heat, but he held off. This was about Anders tonight. Anders needed him, needed this more than he did. For days' they'd both been so… subdued. And for all of Asher's bluster, Skyhold _was_ dangerous. They both knew it, but had both decided to come anyway because they wanted to help, bleeding hearted fools that they were.

Asher's burning hot tongue circled the edge of Anders' hole – _so_ close but not close enough – and Anders' entire body shook as he let out a frustrated whine. He pressed his ass back, hoping, _praying_ to the Maker –which was never going to be a successful venture considering how poorly Anders had treated the Maker's house, but it was worth a shot anyway – that Asher would have mercy on him and end this agonising torment. But the Champion's hands grabbed his ass cheeks, squeezing them roughly and holding his ass in place, quite effectively stopping Anders from rutting into Asher's tongue. He let out a hoarse groan, one that turned into a strangled sort of sob as that tongue continued to dillydally around his hole without ever actually flicking over it

Asher chuckled against his rear, his hot moist breath affording him at least some relief as it rushed over his hole. Then that wicked tongue was once more sliding languidly and lazily down his cleft, back toward his throbbing balls in one long broad stroke that saw Anders' legs tremble and his hands fist the sheets. Ever dextrous, Asher's tongue flicked over his swollen sack. Warm lips sucked softly on the heavy globes and Anders held his breath, knowing what came next as Asher drew one into his mouth and sucked. He groaned even as his legs spread out to give Asher better access to them. Fingers came up next, as Asher let his sack fall from his lips, they fondled every part of him they could reach, teasing him.

The Fade crackled briefly and Asher's magic washed over his balls in waves of gentle heat. He convulsed on the bed, crying out Asher's name and burying his head further into the pillow in frustration. A cry flew from his lips a moment later when Ashe smacked his ass, the sting cutting right through him, radiating out in painful waves and acting as a total counterpoint to the soft magic still tingling over his balls.

" _Plea–fuuuuck!"_ he cried as Asher smacked him again in the same spot as before, the stinging bite of it making him grip the sheets with white-knuckled fists.

"Shhh," Asher whispered.

That tongue returned, licking his cleft some more. Anders had to suck in a shuddering breath in order to calm his tensed body. He both loved and hated never knowing quite what Asher had planned next.

Finally, Asher allowed Anders the thing he most craved. His tongue passed over that pucker with a sure, hard flick. The resultant groan out of Anders' mouth was beautiful, so ragged and broken, slightly muffled by the pillow. The blond's ass lifted higher into the air, pushing up toward his wetted lips. Asher responded with another flick of his tongue, relishing the way that perfect little star quivered from his touch and the almost pained moan it pulled from Anders' throat. He helped part those cheeks, prying them open with both his hands so he could better lick that hole.

Andes' limbs were trembling, shaking the whole bed as he continued to let his tongue swirl over his lovers' hole, slicking it up with saliva, slowly loosening the tight muscle. He sucked on that pucker, drawing it into his mouth so that his tongue could flick rapidly over it, overwhelming Anders with sensation. The result was exactly what he wanted: Anders cried out, back arching, hair falling wildly over his sweat coated shoulders as his head lolled back, his voice no longer muffled by pillows. And it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard; fuelling his ego and setting it on fire.

Anders couldn't think, could barely even breathe, as Asher drew his pucker into his mouth and played with it. Wet soft lips held it in that scorching hot mouth of his as that ever moving tongue went to work, circling, probing and flicking across the little ring of muscle. Anders arms could barely hold him up; most of his weight was now resting on his the side of his face as he buried his head in the pillows, not having anywhere else to go as he continued to squirm and tremble, begging for release.

Asher smirked as he let go of that abused pucker to instead lick along Anders' slit. When his tongue returned to flick over that now loosened ring of muscle, he lapped up the juices seeping out of it. The musky dark taste that he had come to equate entirely with Anders always drove him wild, making his tongue extra eager to lap at his hole.

The muscles there were truly lax now, open and well slicked up, and finally Asher got to the real meal of the night as he let the very tip of his tongue probe into that loosened little star, wiggling it as he pushed in deeper. Anders' response was nearly enough to make him cum then and there as the man let out a broken ragged moan, his whole body tensing and arching, his ass pushing back so that Asher's tongue dipped further into that ring.

He ran his hands over Anders' buttocks, squeezing it softly, lifting and parting those rosy cheeks so that his tongue could explore further. Anders' body trembled against his digging tongue, mostly because of the shake in his legs, legs that were barely holding him up by the feel of it. Asher chanced a look up Anders' sweat coated spine, down to the face Anders had half buried in the pillow. He had to stifle his groan at the fucked-out expression on Anders' face. His cheeks were red with colour, his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his breath panting out through parted kiss-swollen lips.

Asher smirked. He was still getting warmed up.

Anders was tighter than a drawn bow, his whole body trembling as he tried to stay completely still, not wanting Asher to pull back because Anders got too eager as Asher's tongue continued to flick around the inner muscles of his hole. What he did, or tried to do, didn't seem to matter, however, as Asher soon pulled back and returned to simply flicking his tongue over his hole, making Anders buck and squirm again, desperate for that tongue to be buried deep inside him. Asher sensed his tensed state, however, and let more of that damned – _wonderful_ \- force magic roll back over him until he was relaxing again.

And then Asher's tongue returned, answering his pleas as it pushed back into his hole, ripping an agonised groan from Anders' mouth. Hawke's tongue was so hot and wet. The nerves in his oversensitive rear felt like they were igniting as that hot tongue probed into him, wiggling in a way that saw Anders' legs shaking with the strain of holding his ass up in the air. But Asher's hands rubbed at it, trying to soothe him while also helping to hold it up. They rubbed and kneaded his cheeks, massaging them before he suddenly pinched them. There was so much sensation, but that was the point. His nerves were singing as that tongue plunged deeper into his hole, preparing him slicking him up for those long fingers.

Anders was quivering in anticipation. He wanted to be filled, _needed_ to be. Too long he had only the force magic swelling over his cock and balls, or teasing flicks of the tongue, all of it leaving him so very empty when all he really wanted was to be stuffed full of Asher's heavy hot cock. He moaned again as Asher kept to a steady, but still tormenting, pace, his tongue swirling around the inside of his hole, pushing in deeper and deeper with each rotation, literally screwing him with his tongue.

"That's it," the Champion murmured breathily, voice sounding hoarse. Asher's own need must have been painful by now; it was dark outside which meant they had been here for hours already. Although Anders had completely lost track of time after his third orgasm, he knew Asher had yet to cum, had yet to even touch himself. He did this often, always holding out for Anders, waiting for him to be completely ready, completely relaxed and desperate to be filled and fucked.

" _Ash,_ " Anders whimpered.

"Something you want there, love?" Asher whispered back as he planted kisses up Anders' back, a smirk at his lips.

Anders let out a frustrated groan. He pressed his ass backwards, into Asher's outstretched palms. " _Pleease,"_ he moaned out.

"As you asked so nicely," he husked, hot breath burning Ander's loosened back door. His whole body tensed.

That tongue plunged into his hole in one deep thrust it was buried in him, scorching and soaking wet. It wiggled in a way that had Anders crying out as his nerve endings ignited all at once, exploding outwards so fast he forgot how to breathe. He gasped, nearly choking as that tongue swirled around his inner walls and pushed even further into him.

Asher drew his tongue back out before he rammed it back in, making Anders cry out yet again. Asher's pride flared and he picked up his pace, thrusting in and out, loving every second of this as Anders lost it around him. He let his tongue swirl and wriggle once it was buried deep inside that impossibly hot passage, then dragged it back out to lick across Anders' pucker, all before repeating the cycle. He knew it wouldn't be enough to see Anders cum again, but it would be enough to turn him into a pleading, sobbing mess. And that was just as good.

Anders wasn't sure if it was even the Common tongue leaving his lips now, or if it was total nonsense as he whimpered and thrashed on the bed, begging with Asher to fuck him properly. Fingers, tongue, his steamy hot cock, he didn't care; he just needed to be _filled_.

Asher smirked, finally satisfied with the mess he had turned his lover into. "I'm gonna make you scream, love, so this whole castle knows you're mine," he husked as his hands massaged Anders' ass and thighs. His lover's returned groan was so broken and hoarse that Asher knew he wouldn't be able to resist sheathing himself inside that hot passage much longer.

**…**

The drink _may_ have been a mistake – just this one time. It hadn't helped with that odd tightness in Dorian's chest at all and had only succeeded in stirring the pot of his already bubbling libido; images of the Champion and his lover rolling around his head. Annoyed, he had retired to his room early, hoping that a descent night's sleep would help somewhat. It had been as his head hit the soft feather down pillows that he had realised just how very unlikely that would be.

It appeared that the Champion and Anders had in fact been given the room just next door to Dorian's. That wouldn't have been a problem, not truly, if it weren't for the fact that the walls were rather on the thin side.

He could hear the Champions amused voice filter into his chambers, that playful tone making him shiver. ' _I could get used to a view like this.'_ But it was Anders' return protest that turned that shiver into a toe curling shudder as the man cried out a desperate sounding ' _Please just get on with it, love. The view is nothing new, or have you forgotten about all the times you-'_ Dorian groaned, rolling onto his side.

His bed just _had_ to be against the shared wall with Anders and Hawke, didn't it? He could try to push his bed over to the other side of his room but he doubted it would help all that much, and if he was being brutally honest with himself… he didn't actually _want_ to do that. Naturally, he would say it was because he was already warm under the covers and the outside temperature was close to freezing… In actual fact, he knew it was because of a deep seated curiosity bubbling inside of him, a curiosity he had always had – one where he wondered what it was like for two men to be together, to _truly_ be together.

Asher's chuckle made Dorian's cock twitch. It was such a light and care-free sound, but also so full of dark promise; he could picture perfectly the man's hot breath on his skin as that little throaty chuckle left the Champion's ever smiling lips. Dorian swallowed thickly. The next words out of Hawke's mouth were quieter, and Dorian found himself leaning closer to the wall to hear the strained tone to the man's voice, the rough and ragged lilt that had taken over the amused tenor from moment's ago. _'I haven't forgotten and it never fails to impress me'_. Dorian actually moaned from the breathy barely held together sound of the Champion's voice. Hearing him in such a raw and honest state was something that Dorian was entirely unprepared to hear. He found himself wishing those words were being husked into _his_ ear, never more so than when Anders let out a loud ragged groan a moment later.

Dorian turned over again, endlessly frustrated. It was stupid to want to be on the receiving end of that, it was _never_ going to happen! How many times had he allowed hope to crawl up into his head? To show him images where he was happy and didn't have to hide his relationship, images where it wasn't just casual sex but something _more_ , something deeper. And how many times had he squashed those images down, burying them because they would never happen?

He knew things were different in the south, that people were free to do as they pleased with whoever they pleased – but to actually _see_ it, to see _them_ so open and brazen with their affections was just bizarre. Naturally, that meant Dorian couldn't stop himself from listening in even if he wanted to. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be in Anders' position at this very moment with the great Champion of Kirkwall as his lover – _proud_ to be his lover, despite Dorian's background and heritage. Hawke certainly didn't seem to mind that Anders had been labelled a terrorist if the way he said _'I've got you. I've always got you,'_ was anything to go by. Dorian's chest tightened uncomfortably at that and he groaned again, rolling over and crushing the pillow to the side of his head, hoping to muffle the sounds of the men next door.

It was no use, however, he could still hear the moans and groans through the walls, Anders practically whining as he cried out Hawke's name. He wasn't quite sure what Hawke was doing to the blond but his imagination was providing him with _ample_ images from which to choose from. He clenched his jaw, his blood practically boiling from arousal and from frustration. For a castle in the sky, the craftsmanship of these walls was beyond shoddy. Who built this ridiculous place? Why did they use the world's thinnest stone in between rooms? There might as well have been floor to ceiling windows built into the wall instead, at least then he'd have a pretty view to go along with all of these tortuous sounds!

' _Plea-fuuuuck!'_ came the strangled cry from the room next door, making Dorian's cock strain against his silk pyjama bottoms. His breath was getting ragged just thinking about the men next door, imagining Hawke sucking on Anders' throbbing cock, or perhaps the Champion's wicked tongue was elsewhere? Dorian shivered as he imagined that hot wet tongue slipping down below his balls to flick across the crack of his ass. It would be so easy to reach down and touch himself, to find release as he listened to Hawke and Anders. Instead he clenched his fists into the sheets; his pride was too great to stoop so low. It was pathetic. They couldn't possibly last much longer. He just needed to hold out until then and try to shift his thoughts to something other than the moaning, groaning men a wall away from him – all sweaty and breathless, skin flushed and cocks all swollen and dripping with their – _No!_

He started reciting magic theory, old teachings he had learnt as a child, whispering the words softly, chanting them as Anders' muffled begging seeped through the walls to make his whole body shiver with want.

' _That's it'_ , the Champion seemed to murmur to Dorian as his hand began to slide down his stomach, desperate to wrap around his aching member. He curled his fingers at the last second, annoyed that he was falling to temptation. Anders whimpered out Hawke's name and Dorian felt like joining him with such a plea. The Champion returned to being amused, his voice practically laughing as he asked his lover if there was something he wanted. Anders' return _please_ was moaned out so beautifully that Dorian had to roll onto his front to stop his hand from carrying on its descent down into his smalls. He felt like shouting at them, shouting for them to please end this teasing game – to please fuck him already.

' _As you asked so nicely'_ was Hawke's husked retort, and Dorian found himself holding his breath in anticipation, waiting for what the man would say or do next as if it was Dorian that all of this was happening to. And then Anders was crying out, and Dorian's hips were bucking into the sheets, rubbing his length against the soft silk of his pyjamas, trying to find any kind of friction for the burning and aching state of his cock. It was Hawke's next words though that were the end of him.

' _I'm gonna make you scream, love, so this whole castle knows you're mine.'_

And scream Anders did, and gone was Dorian's self-control.

Dorian's hand slipped down over his bared chest, brushing past his throbbing cock before he tugged on the silk cord, freeing his pyjamas a little from his hips. He took a shaky breath as Anders screams turned into choked sobs, and then his hand was slipping down over smooth skin and neatly trimmed hair to finally wrap around his length, one finger at a time curling around the hot and throbbing velvety skin. He groaned loudly into the pillow, biting on the soft material as his hips rocked forward into the tight circle of his long smooth fingers.

He shoved down his pyjamas, freeing his dripping cock, his knee automatically moving up toward his chest to give his arm room to manoeuvre as his hand returned to pumping his shaft with long languid movements. He was damned well not going to cum within a few precious minutes; if he was going to do this to the sounds of _them,_ he would do it _properly_!

' _Sweet mercy, love, so good, Ash!'_ he heard Anders moan through the wall, making Dorian draw his lip between his teeth, biting down on a groan of his own. It was bad enough that he was doing this to the sounds of them, but if they were to actually _hear_ him at it…

Dorian envisioned the blond mage – would they make love face to face? He rather thought they would – lying beneath his partner, legs spread wide for him, displaying his cock, lying hard against his belly, surrounded by a nest of peach-fuzz curls, sweating from all of the teasing Hawke had lavished on him thus far.

His hand tightened further around himself, gripping his burning hot shaft as his hips thrust forward again, matching the pace he could hear through the wall, mapping his movements to duplicate the languid, un-hurried speed indicated by those long sobbing moans. Dorian closed his eyes, imagining his hand was Anders' hot tight passage, imagining it was him driving those noises out of the tall blond; that those almost weeping praises were meant for _his_ ears, and not the Champion's, that the breathless cries of ' _love!'_ were meant for him.

Their pace was growing faster, more urgent. He could hear it in the soft grunts now coming from Hawke, and the way Anders was punctuating the barely audible slap of flesh on flesh with sharp keening cries of want.

Then Hawke started talking and Dorian's attention was ruthlessly pulled in the other direction. The Champion was magnetic, his charisma overwhelming all others, even through an intervening wall.

"That's it, baby! You're so fucking beautiful. Come for me again, love. Show it to me again. You got two more in you, don't you, _Warden_?" Hawke cajoled, and Dorian could practically hear the superior smirk on his lips even as he grunted with effort.

And suddenly Dorian wanted nothing more than to be the man beneath him. His mouth began to water as the image of Hawke leaning down over him flooded his mind. He pictured how the Hawke's oak-brown hair would brush over his skin as he took him from behind, hammering hard into him, shoving him down into the sheets. He maintained that the words falling from Hawke's lips were meant for him as his thrusts increased, sliding in and out of his hand, imagining it was the Fereldan's hand wrapped tight around him instead. But he was still missing something in order to keep his illusion going.

He licked his lips almost nervously as he brought his left hand up to them. His fingers traced around the soft full edges, the touch light and teasing, as they tugged down his bottom lip. Hawke was clearly a tease based on everything he had overheard so far and he was certain he would never be straight forward about anything.

Revelling in the fantasy, his cock weeping copiously into his hand, his lips parted at that taunting touch that he imagined not to be his own, his tongue snuck out to taste the tip of his middle finger. Just then, the Champion did something on the other side of the wall that sent Anders off on a streak of blasphemous profanity, cursing and begging his lover and the Maker in the same breath, praying and pleading for more.

Hawke's response to that played so perfectly into Dorian's little fantasy that it was almost unnerving.

' _Such a naughty, filthy mouth, love.'_ Dorian could almost feel the man's hot breath washing over the nape of his neck, wisps of hair tickling his upper back, the rough stubble of his chin dragging over the sensitive skin right in the middle of his shoulders. ' _Remind me why I love it so much.'_

Dorian obeyed Hawke's voice, taking his fingers deep into his mouth, imagining it was Hawke pushing them in further, so deep he nearly gagged, before he swallowed and took in a huge lungful of air through flared nostrils. His tongue slid over those playful digits, slicking them up, coating them with his saliva.

' _That's it!'_ Hawke moaned out, spurring on Dorian's efforts. ' _Put it to good use, love,'_ Hawke encouraged, and Dorian did.

His fingers left his mouth with a pop and he moved his entire arm behind him, leaving his body pressed hard into the mattress, only furthering his fantasy that Hawke was looming over him, his weight pushing him into the bed. His slicked up fingers slid down the curve of his spine, again imagining that Hawke would take his time with him, teasing him mercilessly.

He groped his ass, picturing rougher, calloused hands grazing across the perfectly sculpted globes of flesh to give a buttock a rough squeeze. He lifted the smooth soft flesh as he did so, parting his cheeks just enough to make him shudder in anticipation, his cock jumping forward in the tight ring of his hand. His hips continued to buck forward as his hand lazily explored his backside, thumb grazing along the edge of his cleft.

Dorian moaned, thankful that his vocals were muffled by the pillow his head was pressed into as Hawke let out a breathy croon, silky words spilling from his lips. ' _You like that, don't you?'_ Hawke said breathily and Dorian squeezed his ass again, almost to the point of pain before he rubbed it soothingly, imagining the soft whispered words Hawke would speak into his ear, a tongue briefly darting out to lick the shell. He shivered, close to begging – hearing Anders in the same state in the other room. His fingers slipped up the crack of his ass, momentarily sliding over his tight pucker, only to pull back; keeping up the pretence of Hawke's teasing and wandering hands.

His fingers slid along his cleft, slicking up the dark valley, and then he pulled his hand back to his mouth, his tongue lapping eagerly at the digits once more, coating them thoroughly, tasting the dark and musky taste of himself. It was dirty, even by his standards and his cock kicked in his hand, making more precum dribble from the tip to saturate the sheets beneath him.

Dorian's chest filled with pride as Hawke cheered out a loud, ' _That's perfect, baby.'_ And then his hand was travelling back down to his ass, slipping down through the crack until he reached the pucker again, this time letting his fingers circle around it, spreading his saliva across the tight little hole.

' _You feel so good,'_ Hawke murmured, his voice rumbling through the walls as a moan accompanied his voice and Dorian let out his own little moan as his finger trailed around the ring of muscle, wetting and loosening it. Hawke's hissed out ' _Yes!'_ had Dorian doubling his movements, his hips working harder, pumping into his hand as the two digits at his arse slowly pushed through the tight muscle, making him bite down hard on his lip to stop the cry threatening to fly from his lips. Hawke was groaning and grunting next door as Dorian's fingers slowly pushed deeper into his hole, the hot heat of his digits stretching and filling him enough for him to picture Hawke's long cock doing such a thing achingly slowly.

Dorian drew his fingers out and then pushed them back in shallowly, stretching his entrance some more, before he let them really sink in, moaning properly that time as he bit down on the pillow. It was a stretch, but his fingers flicked over that sweet spot inside his tight hot passage and his whole body shook with a ragged groan falling from his lips. He fell into a satisfying rhythm of his fingers plunging deep into his channel, followed by his hips kicking forward, his cock thrusting into his fist, his fingers then flicked over his prostate just as his thumb flicked over the head of his cock, before his hips rocked back, followed by the slow drawing out of his fingers.

' _Awh, fuck yes!'_ Hawke called out, voice rough and sounding like sex and Dorian let out his own whimpered cry. His whole body trembled with need as his movements picked up their pace, growing more erratic as he pictured Hawke beginning to come undone, slowly losing it after all this build up.

The slapping sound of flesh on flesh increased next door, and Dorian pumped faster into his own hand, the sounds of his slick hand rubbing against his skin almost loud enough to drown them out. His fingers continued plunging into his ass, hitting his prostate with each thrust, pressing into it like the head of Hawke's cock would do if he was really driving into him. His body began to tighten, his balls tingling, ready for release, but he held off, needing to hear Hawke cum first.

' _Aruughhh – fuck! I'm gonna-'_ Hawke's ragged grunted cry turned into a roar as he found his release, Dorian's entire body went taut as a bow, his fingers flexed over his prostate one final time as his thumb flicked over the head of his weeping cock, and then he too was screaming into the pillow, past caring if they could hear him.

He collapsed down on the bed, lying in his own bodily fluids, covered in sweat and panting hard. The momentary feeling of satisfaction didn't last, however, as he pulled his fingers out, feeling more empty than ever before. Hawke would be kissing his lover now, whispering soft endearments to him, maybe even cleaning him, taking care of him, and then they would fall asleep curled up together. But when Dorian shifted on his bed, wanting to move away from the damp patch he had created on the sheets, all he had was the cold chill of un-warmed bed and the almost deafening silence of an empty room. He curled in on himself, shivering and wiped a single tear from his eye before he closed his eyes and tried to find sleep.


	2. Hard In Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hard and trying day for all, mostly thanks to Asher. Actually, I think it's entirely because of Asher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, kudos and love on the first chapter! They are super appreciated, especially as this is a unusual pairing. Massive thanks to draco_illius_noctis for the shout out on Tumblr, too. I am very glad you all liked the smut. As I said before, this one and the next update are smut-free (mostly). And this one really is mostly just Asher causing trouble but you do get to see into his head a fair bit. 
> 
> I just want to say - any views Anders and or Asher have in this, are not necessarily MY views. I am simply writing what worked best for this particular plot. 
> 
> Anyway. I hope you all had a wonderful New Year. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> <3

Dorian's fingers tapped impatiently on the arm rest of his leather chair as his eyes scanned the page of his book for the fourth time in a row without actually reading the damned thing. He had hoped he might be able to distract himself from the memories rolling around his mind – of the things he had done whilst picturing the Champion and his lover – but it was of no use. Those memories were fully seared into his mind by now. And he doubted things were going to get much better in that regard, especially as he had been woken at the crack of dawn by yet more of their enthusiastic coupling. He had fled to the library shortly after, not wanting a repeat performance of the night before.

It was in that most distracted and agitated of states that Varric found him.

"You're up early, Sparkler," the dwarf said from the entrance of his –up until then – quiet alcove.

Dorian grunted in reply, giving him a dismissive wave, as he once more tried to read his book. Varric was the last person in Thedas he wanted to be conversing with at this unholy hour and in this mood, especially given the man's history with the Champion.

Varric paused to look at him. Dorian could see his head tilt out of the corner of his eye. "Trouble sleeping?" Dorian was quite certain there was humour in the dwarf's words, but he dared not look up to confirm it.

Instead, Dorian let out a huff, blowing the messy strands of hair away from his face. "Are you here for a reason, Varric?" he asked primly.

"Oh, just returning some books…" Varric casually replied. He began to put several copies of _Hard in Hightown_ onto the shelf. Dorian rolled his eyes, and went back to his book.

Even if he had been able to concentrate on the pages of his book before Varric's arrival, he most definitely wouldn't have been capable now with the dwarf fussing about with the tomes on the shelf.

Dorian glanced up at him again, watching as Varric slid a copy of his terrible novel _Swords and Shields_ onto the shelf –amid Ancient Tevinter tomes, no less!

"Are you quite done yet?"

"Almost. Just gotta find a good spot for this…" he said as he held up a copy of the _Champion of Kirkwall_. "Ah, perfect," he said as he slotted it into place between Genitivi's _Thedas: Myths and Legends_ and Brother Ramos of Guilherme's _Cautionary Tales for the Adventurous_. Dorian groaned, and Varric turned, eyebrow arched, as he stepped closer to him. "Not a fan of the Champion, Sparkler?" he asked, with what Dorian was certain was the beginnings of a smirk at his lips.

"I barely know him," Dorian rebuffed.

"That so? Might be you get to know him _intimately_ , seeing as you're neighbours now and all."

Dorian paled. Varric was definitely smirking now. Of course he would know about the Champion's living arrangements. "That seems doubtful, given how preoccupied the man seems to be," Dorian retorted, nose held high in the air.

"Seems like you're pretty preoccupied too, Sparkler," Varric teased, with a knowing smile that saw a blush creep up Dorian's neck.

"Yes, because there is a dwarf sniffing around my business," Dorian grumbled back.

"You sure you don't wanna get anything off your chest there?"

"There is nothing to get off of _my_ chest, Varric."

Varric's lips parted into a grin. "Not even that pretty pink blush you got going on?"

Dorian groaned and pulled his collar across his neck, effectively cutting off the dwarf's view of any such flushed skin. "No," he huffed. "Now if you are quite done?"

"Alright, suit yourself," Varric said, holding back a snicker, before turning, and ambling away. Dorian settled back into his seat with a sigh, hoping to finally be able to read his book.

Any such thoughts were short lived, however.

"How come I never got one of these?" Hawke's voice trailed up to him, echoing around the large circular tower. Dorian shivered all over. He swallowed thickly, remembering how that same voice had sounded the night before.

"A rotunda?" Anders' voice answered, sounding lighter than it had in the throne room, a hint of humour to it now.

"No, no," Hawke dismissed casually. "A _castle_ ," he explained. "All I got for being Champion was some fancy armour. Hardly seems fair, does it? Bails back there only had to lift her hand to close the Breach, that's it. And she got _all_ of this. I was running around that bloody throne room for hours trying to kill the fucking Arishok."

Anders chuckled in response. "I didn't see too many unoccupied castles in Kirkwall, love."

"I wouldn't have minded waiting while they built me one, but they didn't even offer, Anders."

Dorian never heard Anders' reply, and he took that to mean the man made some kind of gesture instead. When the two men finally reached the top of the stairs and passed Dorian's alcove, they were arm in arm.

From his leather chair, he could see Anders' eyes light up as he took in the long stretches of bookshelves lining the curved walls. "I'm going to take a look through some of these… You go on ahead, love. I'll meet you up there," Anders said softly to Hawke.

Dorian was afforded a brief look at the Champion's face, at the worry that clouded those handsome features, before his expression returned to one with a bright smile when he noticed people watching them. "Sure thing. Just be careful, and meet me up there when you're done, okay?"

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you to be careful; you are about to meet with an assassin, after all."

"Oh please, I'd let little miss Nightingale sing me a tune any day."

"That's exactly what I mean, Ash. Please try not to piss her off."

Hawke grinned at his lover. "Me, piss someone off? Don't be absurd."

Anders shook his head, gaze lingering on Hawke as he walked away and up the next set of stairs before he turned his attention to the bookshelf to his left. The blond apostate began perusing the shelves, one finger on his chin as his lips moved, murmuring the titles his eyes skimmed over.

The apostate looked better than he had the day prior. He had shaved the fuzz from his jaw and had washed his hair. He even had new garb: loose linen trousers, black knee-high boots, a dark cotton shirt, and tied loosely around his waist was a dark brown robe. It was a simple look, but with a rosy tint to his cheeks and his golden hair falling free over his shoulders, it looked quite good on him. But that wasn't the reason for Dorian's lingering stare. He found the man fascinating. After everything Anders had done, even with that terribly southern label of terrorist, Hawke still loved him, and loved him openly – _boldly._ Such a thing was beyond alien to Dorian, and he couldn't help but watch.

"Were you looking for something in particular?" Dorian found himself asking.

Anders jumped a little, clearly having not realised Dorian was sitting in the darkened alcove. He smiled as he watched Anders' cheeks flush further with colour. Amber eyes locked with his hazel-grey ones.

"Uhh, no, well, yes. I was looking for something that might help a… friend of mine."

"A friend, hm?" Dorian said with a knowing smile as he got to his feet and strolled over to the tall man. "This so called _library_ doesn't have much… but I know it better than almost anyone."

Anders nodded, his fingers pushing those golden locks behind his ear. "I was looking for a book on spirits, specifically. The mage downstairs seemed to think that there were some here that might just be of use to me, to my friend."

"Spirits…" Dorian murmured as he ran his fingers over the spines of a few books, humming as he thought. "There's _Theoria Autem Spiritus_ , I suppose… though Aetius is shunned by many as too drastic in his views. Drusus Fabius wrote something if I recall correctly… what was it called? Ah yes. _Autem Sominatis Obris Terrarum_. The Dream World. Quite a good read. Entirely in Tevene, however – I'd be happy to translate if you needed something specific, of course."

Anders stared at him a little stunned for a moment, before a small frown formed between his brows. "You know Tevene?"

Dorian laughed, head falling back. "I'd be a rather poor Tevinter if I didn't!"

Anders looked stunned, not horrified or repulsed like most though; his expression was more akin to pleasant surprise, his amber eyes sparking with curiosity.

"You don't look like any Tevinter I've ever met," Anders commented, eyes briefly roaming over his body.

"No?" Dorian smirked. "We're not all moustache twirling evil blood mages, you know. Although I _do_ have the moustache, and I do, on occasion, twirl it, but it isn't usually accompanied by evil laughter and the killing of slaves, unlike some of my more _charming_ countrymen."

Anders laughed at that and Dorian smiled. "I've always wondered what it was like to live there – as a mage, I mean. Are you a magister, then?"

Dorian let out a small sigh. "No. My father is. I am merely an Altus. Upper-class. As to what the Imperium is like for a mage? It is as you'd expect, I should think. We study magic theory and train, and the more unsavoury sorts take to making deals with demons to progress further. I however chose _not_ to do that."

Anders smiled a smug, vindicated sort of smile. "I _knew_ not everyone there was an evil blood mage," he blurted out with a level of enthusiasm that Dorian found rather endearing. "No Templars either?" he asked.

"There _are_ Templars, they're just rather different to the ones you have here. We also have Circles and the Chantry."

"But the mages are in charge," Anders said wistfully. Dorian nodded. "Why would you leave such a place?"

Dorian's brows arched in surprise before he managed to compose himself. "Let's just say that my family didn't like my choices, and nor was I particularly fond of theirs."

Anders nodded, obviously thinking on what he had said. "I've always wanted to go there," Anders admitted, sighing a little. "I tried to get to a ship once or twice on some of my escapes from the Circle, but never made it far enough."

Dorian cocked a brow at him. "Just how many times did you escape?"

Anders smirked. "Seven, in the end."

"Seven…" Dorian echoed, astonished. "How did you avoid capture that time?"

Anders shrugged. "I became a Warden and then left the Order."

"I wasn't aware such a thing was possible."

"Apparently it is."

"Remarkable."

Anders nodded, smiling dropping away as is gaze drifted back to the bookshelves.

Dorian pulled out the tomes he had mentioned, plus a few more he hoped would be useful. "It would help if I knew exactly what you were looking for…" he said as he handed Anders the dusty old books.

"It's…" Anders sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "A friend of mine got possessed by a spirit. I want to try to help separate them," he said, avoiding eye contact. The man really was a terrible liar; all of his emotions were clearly written across his face: the guilt, the regret, the helplessness, the fear and the anger.

Dorian nodded, playing along. "This wasn't a typical possession, I take it? Not one through the Fade?"

Anders shook his head, flicking through one of the tomes. "No. The spirit had been trapped out of the Fade, my friend, they offered to help the spirit. Join with them."

"I see," Dorian said thoughtfully. He had actually read _The Tale of the Champion_. Varric hadn't been shy on the details about Anders' circumstances either, but he declined to comment, instead carrying on with the ruse the apostate was spinning rather poorly.

"I know of… rituals performed in Tevinter, forcing spirits trapped in this world into hosts to turn those slaves into brutal killers. _Spiritis Vinctos_ , they call them. There may be rituals that can be performed to reverse such a thing… although I can't say it's something I've researched much myself."

"And you'd really translate?"

"Of course! Tevinter literature is far superior to anything this far south, _especially_ when it comes to topics such as these. The only other regions to match Spirit Theory would be Nevarra and Rivain. The Inquisitor might be able to help…"

"Uhh, no, best not. I'm already on thin ice as is. If they start thinking I don't have control of Justice then I-" Anders' mouth snapped shut as he realised what he had said.

Dorian chuckled and squeezed the man's shoulder. "I've read Varric's book. I should think most people here have; he leaves the damned things lying around enough. I've actually wanted to ask you about it. I can't even begin to imagine what sharing your body with a spirit must be like."

Anders stared down at the ground, his face crumpling. "He was my friend and I changed him, made him something he's not. And the things we did…" Anders closed his eyes, a ragged breath leaving his lips as his scowl deepened.

Dorian tilted his head slightly to better see the man's face. "You're here now," he said softly, making Anders glance up at him. "Perhaps it won't make up for all your past mistakes or the opinions of the masses. But none of that matters. What matters, is that you are doing the right thing _now_. It took a great deal of courage to come here, to stop running or hiding and to face what you did."

"Thank you," Anders replied sincerely, giving him a small smile.

"You clearly have regrets," Dorian said, watching the apostate carefully.

"What we… What _I_ did. It was necessary, I believed that, still do. The Circle was to be annulled regardless, I gave those mages a fighting chance. Whether that is Justice's lingering influence or not, I cannot say. He has been quiet ever since the Chantry exploded. But I had to force that change. I had to make everyone see how mad Meredith truly was. And it worked. But so many lives were lost in the process." He sighed roughly. "The Inquisitor… she did what I never could. She freed them. All of them. After that, I knew we needed to come here, Hawke and I, to help, and to face judgement now that the mages are finally safe."

"Rare is it that change happens peacefully," Dorian agreed. "The bloodshed needed to change Tevinter would be unimaginable, that much I am sure of."

"It sounds like you were well off, would people not listen to you?"

Dorian laughed. "I am somewhat of a pariah back home. So no, listening would be one of the few things they _wouldn't_ do."

The apostate opened his mouth to speak but the rush of footsteps behind them made them both look up. "Oh, you're still down _here_ ," Hawke muttered as he stalked toward them. "I could have sworn I said something about meeting me up there?" he snarked.

Anders carried a guilty expression on his face as he turned to face his lover. "Sorry, love. I lost track of time."

"So I see," Hawke said as he glanced at Dorian, blue eyes narrowed slightly.

Anders glanced at Dorian, frowning slightly. "I never actually asked your name."

Dorian bowed deeply, smiling. "Dorian of House Pavus, a pleasure to meet you both."

"Oh so _you're_ the Vint," Hawke replied as his eyes roamed down Dorian's frame, before he returned his gaze to his lover.

"Yes," Anders replied. "He's offered to translate some tomes for me, things that might help with Justice."

Hawke's eyes widened briefly before settling into a slight glare. "I thought we talked about this? You don't need to fix yourself; you're not _broken_ , Anders."

"Ash…"

"Don't _Ash_ me. I love you as you are. You don't need to change for anyone."

"You're wrong – I need to change for _you,_ for _us._ I want there to be an _us_. How long will it be until Justice finds a new cause?"

"You don't know that he will –"

"Justice does not stop, justice does not sleep. Justice is eternal, unrelenting and unyielding," Anders interrupted. "Something needs to change, love, and this time it will be me, not the world."

Hawke's eyes closed briefly, as he sighed out a long breath. This was clearly an argument they had repeated many times. "So you just thought you'd ask the Vint for help?" Hawke asked. "You introduce yourself as the possessed apostate, too?"

"Considering there _were_ no introductions…" Dorian began. "I'd have to go with a resounding _no_ on that front."

Hawke arched a brow at him, blue eyes icy, before he turned back to Anders. "You still talked long enough to get onto the topic of Justice. I didn't think we were mentioning him unless specifically asked?"

"Dorian could _help_ , love. It's not like I'm shouting it from the rafters here."

"You trust too easily," Hawke bit out. "This is why I didn't want to leave you alone."

"I was just down the stairs from you," Anders objected, voice rising with his ire.

"And? You said you would meet me up there."

Anders gave Asher a stern look, one brow arched. "We've talked about this… I can take care of myself."

Hawke sighed, running a hand through his oaky coloured locks. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You done talking, or should I wait some more for you?"

Anders tilted his head, shoulders sagging. "No, we can go." The apostate turned to look at Dorian, giving him a sad smile. "Perhaps we will talk more later?"

Dorian nodded. "Of course."

He watched them leave, even going so far as to lean over the balcony, smirking as Hawke all but dragged Anders out of the rotunda. They were a fascinating pair, the protectiveness of Hawke, the unconditional love they had for one another, and the guilt carried on Anders' shoulders, guilt that Hawke was clearly helping him bear. Even married couples in Tevinter didn't behave quite like that; most marriages were for blood lines only, to create the best mage child they could, the best heir. Love, was not something his people did very often – passion on the other hand, they were _very_ good at, but that wasn't quite the same thing.

He found himself heading down the stairs, wandering in the direction the duo had gone in.

* * *

 

Asher flung another fireball at the practice dummy. His elemental magic wasn't quite as _precise_ as his force magic, which was the reason for him using it now. Most people knew of him due to Varric's grand stories. To them, he was some sort of legend, an unstoppable force of nature. So if they saw him missing targets with his fireballs and acting like a total fool, it would lessen their opinion of him. He wanted them to think he was weaker than he really was – wanted them to underestimate him – while still relying on people like Cullen to recall just how powerful he actually was so the Inquisition still had use for them both. It was a delicate balance, this act he was playing. He'd even considered _doing a Fenris_ , and being a complete grump at Skyhold, but he didn't have the fucking willpower to keep a smile from his face for so long. It was easier to act the fool.

The fireball whizzed right over the dummy and smashed into the stone wall behind it. Some of the people in the yard screamed and scattered, and he had to hold back a laugh as he watched them flee.

Anders rubbed his at the bridge of his nose as he often did whenever Asher did something 'unsavoury', which was often. Asher glanced at him, arching a brow. "What? That wall had it coming."

Anders sighed, smiling in spite of himself. "And did the grass also have it coming?"

"Of course. It had no right being that damned green in temperatures this damned cold."

Anders rolled his eyes. "What about the soldier you nearly set on fire?"

"I'm sure they did _something_ to warrant that."

In truth, that one _had_ been an accident, his elemental magic did tend to get a little more unruly when he was angry, which he still was. Justice had been a point of contention throughout their entire relationship but Asher had always maintained that, with help, Anders could control him. Asher had made Anders promise never to keep things from him –Chantry's got destroyed when that happened– and ever since things had been good, _more_ than good between them, and the spirit had barely made an appearance. But of course that wasn't enough for Anders, no, he had insisted on talking to that bald elf and the Vint about it all.

"You're angry because of Justice," Anders said, because of course he knew what he was really thinking.

Asher snorted. "Ole' Justie hasn't made an appearance since that lightshow in Kirkwall, and we all know I can't hold a grudge for shit."

"That's not what I meant. You're annoyed I'm seeking help. But Ash, you _knew_ I would want to if we came here; the Inquisitor's reach is wide. Even here at Skyhold, there are people that could help."

"Yes, like your Vint friend," Asher retorted as he readied another spell.

"He's not my – there was Solas as well, and he seemed to think he could separate us."

"He also said there would be risks," Asher bit out. "That even he would need to read up on such things before attempting anything." He looked to Anders, shoulders slumping slightly. "You've got Justice under control – why risk everything when it isn't necessary?"

Anders' face softened and he gave Asher a small sad smile. "Because it's better to cut out the rot rather than letting it fester."

"Damn it Anders, you're not infected or sick or broken. Justice isn't just a wound you can cut out – he's _you_. You've said it yourself that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin, so just how is this elf going to do so? What if it goes wrong and I… I-" Asher took a shuddering breath, staring down at the ground, and Anders squeezed his shoulder.

"I'm not going to rush into it… but, love, if Justice and I stay together, it's only a matter of time until you lose me, one way or the other."

Asher sighed. Then he noticed the Vint sitting on a bench across from them with a book in hand, watching them, and he felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him. He didn't trust the Vint's charming smile or sparkling eyes, and he definitely didn't like how they were fixed on Anders now.

Annoyed, he lifted his hand to fling another fireball.

"Hawke!" Cullen's rumbled warning echoed across the yard.

Asher turned, looking at the Commander with the most charming smile he could muster despite his poor mood. "Yes, Cully?"

The Commander grimaced, already exasperated.

"I need you to stop casting; you're scaring people."

Asher let out an exaggerated sigh. "Will I be punished if I don't? Rewarded if I do?"

Cullen let out his own sigh, shaking his head. "I am merely making a reasonable request of you. Putting holes in our walls is hardly an appropriate way to repay the Inquisition's hospitality."

"What's one more hole?" he said, looking about the courtyard with feigned innocence, "Seems like you've got plenty already."

"That's not –" Cullen shook his head. "They are being repaired. Please do not add to our work load."

Asher leaned against his staff, cocking his hip out like Carver usually did whenever leant against something; Cullen noticed, and immediately scowled at him, making Asher smirk.

"So, you never did tell me how my baby brother is."

Cullen folded his arms over his chest. "No. I didn't."

"Bit rude, that."

The Commander rolled his eyes with a little shake of his head. "He's fine, last I heard. You're the one who had him babysat by the elf."

Asher shrugged. "Killing slavers is good for the soul."

"I wasn't aware his soul needed saving," Cullen retorted curtly.

Asher grinned. "I dunno, sounds like he's sinned _a lot_. Don't you Templars take vows?"

Cullen's scowl deepened. "Vows, yes, of chastity, no," he muttered.

Asher chuckled. "Maybe he's not quite so damned then," he mused, and then he straightened, twirling his staff casually between his hands. "So tell me, did my baby brother ever do _the thing_?"

"What _thing_?"

"Oh you know, the thing with his pinky. I did tell him to."

Cullen's face went bright red and he coughed into his hand, casting his eyes away in a hurry to avoid eye contact.

"He _did!_ " Asher laughed out. "You know Anders here taught me that particular one," he informed the ex-Templar with a grin.

"You learn all sorts in the Circle," Anders commented, unable to hide the smirk on his own lips at Cullen's redness.

"You– he –" Cullen shook his head. "We should not be discussing this here, Champion. Carver may not be under my command anymore but –"

"I bet you wish he was though-" Asher interrupted, hiding a laugh; Cullen was so easy, "- _under_ you, that is."

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat on his brow already. He had endured much teasing from the Champion over the years, but it had been some time, and he was less prepared than he thought he would be. But if allowing the man to ridicule him stopped him from setting the yard on fire, then it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

"It would be…" He coughed, trying to clear his throat as he ignored that last comment, "good to have more Templars in our ranks, it's true," he admitted, watching Hawke and his lover wearily.

" _Right_. Especially someone you sparred with so regularly," Asher replied, a smirk still curving his lips. "Carver always was impressed with how well you handled your _sword_ ," he drawled with another sly look. The poor Commander was struggling to breathe by the looks of his face and Asher's smirk widened.

"Our training was most thorough," Cullen replied a little croakily, coughing again and pulling on the collar of his shirt as people started to take note of their conversation.

"Seems the Circles were good for something, at least," Asher chuckled.

"Yes, well, if you're quite done?"

"I dunno about you – well, actually, I do – but it takes me a lot longer to be done than that, Commander."

"Yes, I too, am aware," Cullen growled out. "Even so, perhaps you would refrain from setting anything else on fire for the time being?"

Hawke pouted at the Commander, before Anders came to the defence of the man and masonry both, "I'm sure he'll be able to manage that, for a short time at least, Cullen."

Cullen gave them both a nod before walking away, rubbing his neck as he often did.

Asher turned his pout on his lover only to catch sight of Dorian watching them again and his hand gripped his staff a little tighter. "You know what, let's head somewhere else for a bit."

* * *

 

It was Dorian's third drink. The tavern never had anything even remotely close to decent, so he was rather stuck drinking the Fereldan ale that Varric and Bull seemed so fond of. If he was being honest, the drink wasn't _entirely_ terrible… not that he would ever admit such a thing out loud, of course.

Dorian tried to pay attention to what Bull and Varric were discussing, sat as they were beside him, drinking and playing cards, but Dorian's mind was still elsewhere. Stuck on an infernal loop in his head were the images of the Champion and his lover, of the snippets of their relationship he had been witness to since their arrival.

He wanted what they had, that much was clear. He always had, but he hadn't fully realised just _how much_ he wanted that until it was strutting about in front of him.

And any chance he might have had to get them out of his head was short lived as the Champion and his lover entered the tavern, arm in arm. Asher walked in with such confidence, his strides sure as he sauntered straight to the bar and ordered drinks for himself and Anders. Even the apostate looked more relaxed, care-free even, with a smile on his face as the pair settled down at a darkened table in the corner.

"Smart," Bull commented. "Good defensive positioning. He's smarter than he lets on."

That got Dorian's attention. He glanced at Bull, realising the qunari was talking about Hawke. "Defensive?" he asked. "Surely not; they just want some privacy."

Bull snorted, that grey eye of his fixed on him, alight with amusement. "He's tenser than a virgin about to cum."

"He's not wrong, Sparkler, haven't seen Hawke this on edge since Carver joined the Templars," Varric added.

Dorian frowned. To him, Hawke had looked calm, relaxed, lounged back in the chair. But as he watched Hawke, he realised his companions were right. Hawke's staff was at his side, propped up against the bench seat, ready to grab in case of trouble, and the man's eyes were watching the room rather than his lover. You wouldn't have noticed unless you knew what to look for or, as in Dorian's case, had it pointed out to you.

"So, you think he what? Fears an attack?" Dorian asked blithely.

Varric shrugged a shoulder. "Blondie's not exactly everyone's favourite person now, is he?"

"Well, no, but he's under the Inquisition's protection now, nobody would actually attack them, at least not _in_ Skyhold."

"That'd be the perfect time to do it," Bull disagreed, " _if_ their guard was down."

Dorian hadn't considered that. It was true that the pair had taken a considerable risk coming here, but Hawke had seemed so sure of himself in the throne room that Dorian had never truly believed that he or his lover would be executed.

"Course," Bull continued, "then they'd have to deal with a really pissed off Inquisitor… hm, maybe they'll be alright."

"Hawke's more than capable of handling himself, Tiny. You didn't see him fighting the Arishok, wasn't a scratch on him by the end of that fight."

"Impressive," Bull mused. "I always figured you'd exaggerated liberally with that tale."

"I wish I had. Hawke's magic scares the shit out of me."

"What I saw in the yard earlier would hardly be considered very impressive, Varric," Dorian scoffed. "He could barely hit the target dummy."

The dwarf snorted. "You tell me stray fireballs don't scare the shit out of you when that ass you're so fond of showing off is on fire, Sparkler." Varric took a long pull from his drink. "But that's just part of the act. Hawke's a force mage, a bloody good one at that."

The door swung open then and the Commander stepped in. The poor man looked weary, exhausted and in desperate need of a drink, but as soon as Cullen spotted Hawke in the corner, he turned to leave.

"Whoa there Curly!" Varric called out. The Commander turned, giving the dwarf a withered look. "First drink's on me tonight, you earned it." Cullen sighed a little before giving Varric a nod and coming to join them at the table. Varric waved down one of the tavern's waitresses, getting them all another round, as Cullen sat, rubbing at his temples.

The flagons arrived a moment later. "Drink up," Bull prompted, knocking Cullen's glass with a smirk. The Commander nodded, lifting the flagon to his lips before he tipped back half its contents.

"Think you survived the worst of it there, Curly. Hawke was just stretching today, seeing how far he could push everyone. With any luck, he won't be this bad tomorrow."

"You willing to put money on that, dwarf?" Cullen asked wearily.

Varric smirked. "I never bet money on Hawke."

"Right, because he's too unpredictable," Cullen sighed. "I had forgotten just how _difficult_ he could be. I had hoped that after everything he would have mellowed somewhat."

Varric smiled. "No chance there, Curly, you being brother's in arms and all, figured you'd know better by now."

Cullen glared at the dwarf. "You're nearly as bad as he is."

Dorian tuned the rest of their conversation out. Instead his thoughts were on the strange couple in the corner. If what Varric and Bull had said was true, the sheer lengths Hawke was willing to go to in order to protect Anders were outstanding. And again, that ache in his chest returned.

* * *

 

Asher's fingers tightened around his untouched flagon. He could see that Vint watching them out of the corner of his eye. He'd been there all day, just on Asher's periphery, and he didn't like the way the Tevinter's gaze lingered on Anders. He didn't think Dorian was a threat, certainly not in the life threatening sense of the word, but he definitely didn't like how enamoured with Anders the Vint seemed to be.

Anders was talking at him, as he usually did when he'd had something to drink. Normally Asher found such a thing entirely endearing, but they were in Skyhold, in a tavern full of drunk and potentially very angry men who held a grudge over the events of Kirkwall. If Anders was going to drink, then it was Asher's job to stay alert and ready for anything. But even that was proving difficult to do, distracted as he was with the Tevinter ogling at his lover.

Asher turned his attention to Anders. "Seems you have an admirer," he commented casually, cutting Anders off mid-sentence with whatever he had been saying. Anders frowned, looking around the tavern, and then, having not realised who, returned his gaze to Asher.

"The Vint," Asher explained. Anders' eyes widened slightly, his brows lifting with his surprise.

"What makes you think that?"

"He's been staring at you all day, following you around. Reminds me of Carver and Cullen, actually."

Anders snorted into his drink. "I'm sure you're exaggerating. Besides, Dorian didn't blush when we talked earlier, he can't remind you _that_ much of Cullen and Carver."

"We all know it's impossible to beat the levels of blushing and stammering those two do… but my point still stands, that Vint has been following us around all day."

"Ah, _us._ So what makes you think it's _me_ he's so enraptured by?"

"I didn't exactly make a good first impression, now did I?" Asher said with a self-depreciating smile. "Whereas you two clearly hit it off, well enough to start discussing Justice of all things."

Anders sighed and lifted his hand to rub at his temple. The wedding band on his finger caught in the candlelight and Asher was momentarily filled with warmth at the sight of it. "Not this again. He offered to _help_ , Ash."

"Yes, perhaps because he wants to get in your _pants_."

"You really think that?"

"Well, you _are_ gorgeous," he replied, smirking. Anders rolled his eyes, smiling. "But I don't know. I just don't like him staring at you."

Anders smirked. "Jealous?"

Asher folded his arms. "Please, do I look like the jealous type to you?" he deadpanned.

Anders arched an incredulous brow at him, and Asher burst out laughing.

A grin stretched across Anders' face, a smug one. "Now you know how I felt when you and Fenris-"

"Agh, I _knew_ you were going to bring that up!" Asher laughed out, exasperated. "It was one night, Anders! One very angry, violent, _passionate_ night…" he said a little wistfully.

"And you wonder why I was jealous when, even now, all these years later, you still get wistful when you think about that night," Anders commented dryly, smirking slightly, and making Asher snort. "I know jealousy very well, thank you very much, so I know it when I see it in someone else."

Asher rolled his eyes.

"You can stop turning green now, you know, looks like he's leaving," Anders said, drawing Asher's gaze to the Vint who was saying his goodbyes to Varric, Cullen and the one-eyed qunari.

"No, _now_ I can get some answers," Asher replied. He waited for Dorian to leave the tavern before whistling and calling Varric over.

The dwarf ambled over to them and slid into the bench seat next to them. "Everything alright, Hawke?"

"Always, Varric." He grinned. "So," Asher said before he took a pull of his drink. He slammed the flagon back down on the table and wiped his lip, "tell me about the Vint."

Varric chuckled. "Sparkler?"

"Is that what you call him?" Asher laughed. "All that show only for him to sputter out quickly then?"

Varric grinned. "He's all flash, no heat."

"Hm." Asher scratched his beard thoughtfully. If this Dorian was all talk and no bite then maybe he wasn't such a threat after all.

"What was it you wanted to know there, Hawke?" the dwarf asked, his roguish copper eyes watching him curiously.

Asher leant back in his seat, feeling a little safer with the sturdy dwarf at his side. "I don't suppose he happened to mention Anders at all to you?"

" _Or_ Asher," Anders added, smiling.

A smirk spread across the dwarf's face. "Only that you two kept him up all night."

"Oh?" Asher asked, head tilted slightly.

Varric looked to them both, his smirk growing. "He's bunked next to you."

A grin spread across Asher's face.

"Said he was gonna call it an early night, see if he could get some shut eye; that's why he left early just now," Varric explained.

Asher's grin widened and he looked to Anders. "We're going to bed. _Now._ "

Anders laughed. "Love…" Asher stood up and clambered across the table, past Varric. "That's just cruel, Ash," Anders complained as Asher dragged him to his feet too.

"Don't care," Asher laughed.

He was going to show that Vint just who Anders belonged to, just in case the previous night hadn't been clear enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for readinggggg <3 
> 
> Comments and kudos and all that good stuff are encouraged here! 
> 
> Hope you liked it, and will probably update in roughly a week again. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~ Chant.


	3. Hawke, no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is a dick. Some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey. Thanks everyone for reading/commenting and all that, much appreciated <3 
> 
> Thanks as usual to Cara and Shadow for help with all thiss. Love you girls <3 
> 
> Smut will be here soon, I promise! 
> 
> This one is just... I don't even *laughs* 
> 
> Enjoy!

Anders had always been an early riser. In the Circle, mages weren't allowed to lie in, especially mages with multiple escape attempts under their belts. Then, in the Wardens, things hadn't been much improved given how much of a workaholic the Commander had been. As for Kirkwall… well, there had always been patients to see to, work to get done. And Asher liked to lie in late, so Anders knew this was the perfect time to sneak away for a bit without him noticing.

It wasn't that Anders wanted to be away from Asher – although he _did_ feel slightly claustrophobic thanks to Asher's overprotectiveness – he just wanted to test out Asher's little pet theory; see if Dorian really _did_ fancy one of them. Anders still doubted it was possible for anyone to have a crush on him – he was after all an apostate, a possessed one at that. And ever since meeting Asher, Anders had been witness to all of the men and women that flirted with him. It would hardly be unusual for someone to fall for the great _Champion of Kirkwall_ here at Skyhold; Varric's tales alone were enough to make most people swoon at the mention of the man. But there was only one way to find out, and that meant finding and talking to the Tevene mage. Anders was hoping to find him in the library again.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Morning," he said cheerfully to the Tevinter. Dorian looked up at him, gave him a slight nod, then returned to his book. His hair was a ruffled mess, and the bags under his eyes looked darker, like he hadn't slept at all. Asher's fault, no doubt. Anders had tried to keep the noise down but, well, that hadn't lasted long under Ash's wicked tongue or hands.

Anders began rummaging through the shelves, this time looking for something on local herbs; partly so that he had a reason to be here at all, but also because figuring out what herbs were up in these mountains might mean he could actually help the Inquisition while he and Asher stayed at Skyhold. He could probably simply ask for some ingredients… but he'd prefer it if he could do this on his own, without needing to ask for help.

"What are you reading?" Anders casually asked the mage sitting in the leather chair by the window.

Dorian glanced up at him again, letting his book rest in his lap. "An old Vintish story. The scandal around the book meant it got banned back home. I never did get a chance to read it."

Anders paused his rummaging and looked over his shoulder, his gaze following Dorian's long crossed over legs up to his face where grey eyes were watching him curiously. "What was so scandalous about the story?"

"Oh nothing at all – it was the author who was the scandal. Such a shame, his writing is really very good."

Anders frowned as he pulled out a tome on mountain herbs. "Why was the author so scandalous?"

Dorian sighed and uncrossed his legs. "He was found to be sharing his bed with another man."

Anders stopped flicking through the book in his hand and instead turned to face Dorian properly, a scowl etched onto his face. "He was sleeping with him?"

"Oh no, much worse than that. They were living together, as a couple."

Anders frowned. "That's… not acceptable in Tevinter, then?"

Dorian laughed. "To publicly acknowledge being in love with another man? Of course not. Especially not among the elite. You're expected to marry the girl, to produce the best heirs possible. Anything else is unsavoury and unwelcome," he said, his voice rich with resentment.

"I had no idea," Anders said.

"No, I suppose few would, _clearly_ such things are handled… differently in the south."

Anders nodded, feeling suddenly guilty. "I… should let you get back to your book," he said quickly. Asher had really gone and rubbed salt in Dorian's wounds with their caterwauling last night. "And I should _probably_ be getting back to Asher too." He sighed. "If I'm lucky, he's still asleep and won't have noticed I'm gone. If he has…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"At least you have someone who cares deeply for you," Dorian shot back hotly, "most are lucky if they can get a quick fuck in before being kicked out in the morning."

"I know," Anders said softly. "In the Circle… well, it was dangerous to fall in love. Quick trysts in the corner were all we could safely manage. But it isn't always like that, it _can_ be different." Dorian rolled his eyes and Anders sighed. "Well, I guess I'll see you later." Dorian waved him off before settling back in his leather chair.

Anders turned and headed back down the stairs, now utterly convinced that it wasn't himself or Asher that Dorian was interested in, but the idea _of_ them. It must be incredibly foreign to him to see Asher and Anders being so free with their affections when it seemed like Dorian had received very little, perhaps none at all.

* * *

 

Anders opened the door to his room and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Asher Hawke tripping over his own trousers as he scrambled to get into them. The mage fell face first onto the stone ground with a cry of pain, and Anders' gut twisted with guilt even as a small exasperated sigh escaped him. Asher had only panicked because Anders had been gone from their bed when he awoke; apparently he couldn't go anywhere on his own in this damned castle without Asher Hawke worrying.

Asher looked up at him from the pile of limbs and clothes he had become on the floor. He blew his hair away from his face, trying for nonchalance. "I wasn't worried," he said, an innocent flash of a grin lighting his face.

"No, of course not, you were just in a rush for breakfast, right?" Anders replied with a sarcastic smirk at his lips.

"You know me so well." Asher untangled his legs and got to his feet, deciding to slip into his night gown instead of attempting to dress again.

"I do. I stopped by the kitchens on my way back." Anders pulled out the rolls and cheeses he'd managed to nab as well as a few of the little fruit scones that he knew Asher would like. "I would have gotten more but it seems that we missed most of breakfast," he said with a sheepish smile.

Asher grinned. "It was worth it, just for last night." They settled on the bed together and began tucking into their breakfast.

"Speaking of last night…" Anders prompted, looking at his food rather than Asher.

Asher sighed. "Let me guess, you ran into the _Vint_ while out getting breakfast."

"In a manner of speaking… yes." That time he did look up at Asher, only to find him frowning slightly.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I might have popped to the library again… and I might have been hoping he was there."

Asher's dark eyes narrowed. "Keen to see your new bestie again were you?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "I wanted to see if you were _right_."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. Does he wanna fuck your brains out, or not?" Asher asked as he took a large bite into the scone. It crumbled all over his beard, but there was a small smile at Asher's lips as the fruity flavours hit his tongue and warmth spread through Anders' chest at the sight.

"Maybe," Anders replied as he leant closer to Ash and began brushing down his beard, his eyes fixed on his lover's lips, "but I think he's more fascinated with the _idea_ of us rather than either of us as individuals."

Asher smirked at him and grabbed Anders' hand as it retreated. "So he's into really good looking, hunted apostates?" he said as he licked Anders' fingers clean.

Anders laughed. "I meant us as a couple – two _men_."

Asher let Anders' hand fall away as his expression deadpanned. "Anders, I'll eat my own shoe if Dorian isn't gay."

Anders snorted. "As much as I would love to see that, I agree. But in Tevinter same sex couples are frowned upon – or rather, not allowed at all. Dorian's no virgin, but I don't think he's had any _good_ experiences with other men either."

"Well, that rules Tevinter out of our vacation travel plan," Asher mused.

Anders pouted at him. "Love…"

"Oh, no you don't," Asher said, waggling a finger at him.

"What?" Anders asked innocently, batting his lashes.

"You're giving me your healer's face."

"I've no idea _what_ you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. You get this look in your eye; it means you want to help him."

Anders smiled. "Well… would that be so bad?"

"That depends entirely on how we are _helping_ him. I'm not gonna help him hook up with someone at Skyhold – I had enough of that shit with Aveline. You know I still have nightmares about copper marigolds?" Anders laughed and Asher shook his head, smirking. "Besides, as far as I can tell, most blokes here are taken or straight as an arrow anyway. And I'd give _terrible_ dating advice, Anders, just ask Carver."

"I didn't mean that… but we _could_ help to show him that you can have sex without it being cold and impersonal."

Asher narrowed his eyes at him. "You want to invite him into _our_ bed?"

"It's about healing – helping – I haven't helped someone for _so_ long, Ash. And you have to admit… Dorian's very attractive."

"I hadn't noticed," Asher commented casually as he glanced at his hand, apparently finding his fingers suddenly very interesting.

Anders moved closer to him, putting his hands on Asher's knees, squeezing. "So you hadn't noticed how silky his hair looks?" he whispered seductively. "Hadn't thought about running your hands through it, fisting it, mussing it all up?" he husked as Asher refused to look at him, but Anders could see him swallow. "What about his arse? I _know_ you noticed that." Asher shivered and Anders grinned. "Don't you just want to grab it? _Bite_ it? Pry open those perfectly sculpted cheeks to run your tongue along his-"

"Yes! Damn it, alright, Anders. He can join us." Anders was about to open his mouth but Asher held up his hand. "I have one condition, however."

"…What?"

"We have to wind him up a bit – _a lot_ – first."

Anders sat back, biting on his lip. "What did you have in mind?" he asked carefully.

"Nothing _so_ terrible… I want to see him squirm a bit, is all."

Anders sighed and nodded. "Alright… just, don't take it _too_ far, okay? I really think seeing us together is affecting him."

"That's the _point_ , Anders. I _want_ it to affect him," Asher chuckled. "And when have I _ever_ taken things too far?" he said, trying to hide the smirk from his face.

Anders gave a rueful shake of his head. "Hmmm, let me see… Yesterday, you set Skyhold's garden on fire and I had to summon a blizzard to put out the flames before you burned the whole thing down. It still looks like a frozen wasteland out there now."

"That's just one-"

"On the way to Skyhold, you thought we were being followed through the woods so you knocked down half the forest with your magic-"

"Ah, but there _was_ a bear."

"Which only attacked us _after_ you sent her flying across the ground."

"Yes, well, she buggered off after I did that to her for the sixth time in a row, didn't she?"

Anders laughed. "What about Kirkwall? We had that plan with Bela in place – she was going to hand herself over to the Qunari and then escape with our help, once the Qunari were out of the city. But you _goaded_ the Arishok into fighting you instead."

"Goaded is a _bit_ of a strong word…"

"Asher, you trash talked him, called him a-"

"Please, Varric still doesn't let me live that down."

"Too right he doesn't."

Asher sighed. "Okay, so _maybe_ I sometimes, very occasionally, take things too far, but you're hardly one to judge there, love."

Anders snorted. "I never said I was judging… just, pointing a few things out to you."

"Trust me, love." Asher grinned. "Getting _Sparkler_ all hot and bothered will work wondrously. Just wait and see."

Anders sighed, shaking his head slightly.

* * *

 

It was usually earlier in the morning when Dorian and Cullen played a game or two. They did it as a way to help wake themselves up, but today it was closer to noon before they'd met in the garden. In part that was due to them both being rather sleep deprived, the other was due to much of the garden still being coated in ice. The chess table and chairs were one of the few things that had thawed out after Anders had rather unconventionally doused the flames.

And despite the lateness of the match, Dorian still felt too exhausted to truly play, but at least it was a good distraction – it was certainly a better use of his brain than what it had been _stuck_ thinking about recently – and would clear their minds a bit before yet another gruelling day –and night in Dorian's case – of dealing with Hawke.

Cullen, so far, was winning this round, although Dorian chalked that up to his exhaustion rather than any ability on Cullen's part. But his losing did mean his mind was almost entirely clear of Hawke and more importantly, of the bitter feelings of resentment Dorian's earlier conversation with Anders had brought to the surface.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Commander, you haven't won yet," Dorian said, smiling as he leaned back confidently in his chair.

"No, I have you and you know it," Cullen said back, his smirk widening. "There's no cheating your way out of this round either, Pavus."

" _Me_ , a cheat? I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander."

"I've learnt to watch you like a hawk-" Cullen winced slightly at the mention of the predatory bird, both of them were suddenly, rather jarringly, reminded as to why they had come to the garden in the first place.

"And just as I was starting to forget about him," Dorian sighed.

"Sorry," Cullen replied, rubbing his neck. "My point was: I know you cheat and I know _when_ you cheat. You will have to win honestly this time and I think we both know I have this round won."

"We shall see about that, Commander." Dorian moved his next piece on the board as Cullen watched on carefully. It was then that both men heard it – the, frankly, unmistakable cries of coitus. Dorian had heard those cries and moans enough lately to know just who they belonged to.

"Is that…?" Cullen's face turned an alarming shade of red as those cries increased in volume. "Oh, oh Maker."

"You should thank your lucky stars, Commander, that you don't have a room _next_ to them; sleep has been fitful at best," Dorian said as he rubbed his temples.

"I can imagine. Not that I am i-imagining such things, I mean," Cullen answered quickly, his voice hoarse. "I only meant that it must be difficult to have to deal with that," Cullen added, tugging on his collar, as Anders began screaming Hawke's name.

"And just how do you imagine I _deal_ with that, Commander?" Dorian asked, his voice sounding a little raspy to his own ears. The tips of Cullen's ears flushed and the Commander coughed into his hand, making Dorian smirk. "It's your move, by the way," Dorian reminded him. At this rate he actually might win this round; there was no way the Commander could concentrate now.

"Right." Cullen cleared his throat and stared at the board. Dorian could see droplets of sweat glistening on the man's brow. He was clearly getting very hot under the collar thanks to the scandalous cries of pleasure filtering down to them. It was affecting Dorian too, of course; his mouth was dry and he could feel his trousers getting tighter, but he wasn't likely to become a stuttering blushing mess just because he was a little turned on.

* * *

 

"Louder," Asher ordered, snickering into his iced tea.

Anders laughed into his hand before throwing his head back to let out another ear-piercing scream of faked pleasure – well, that wasn't _entirely_ accurate, they were having fun after all, just not the kind of fun everyone else would assume them to be having.

"Think they can hear you in the garden yet?"

"I bloody well hope so, my throat will be raw by the end of this," Anders laughed out.

Asher grinned. "I just wish we could see their faces."

"We know what Cullen will look like."

"Mmm, red as a tomato, probably stammering by now, too."

"Don't forget the neck rubbing and collar tugging," Anders added, grinning.

"It's a miracle him and my baby brother were able to talk at all."

"We can't all be as talented a wordsmith as you, love."

Asher smirked. "Speaking of words… scream again – this time throw in some blasphemes as well."

There was a momentary pang of guilt stabbing Anders' chest—he knew this whole thing was likely to end with Dorian getting angry and upset, but he hoped that what would follow would more than make up for it. He would make sure it did.

He threw his head back once more and screamed.

* * *

 

As Dorian had anticipated, Cullen was unable to think straight. Dorian would have smirked in satisfaction had it not been for the fact that he could barely concentrate on the game either. Anders was screaming at the top of his lungs, cries to the Maker and to Asher pouring from his mouth, and Dorian couldn't help but wonder just what Hawke was doing to him to make him come apart quite so thoroughly.

Cullen coughed loudly as Anders' screams shattered, his voice finally breaking from the pleasure. "Perhaps we should continue this… another time?" the Commander asked awkwardly.

"Yes," Dorian agreed, the tightness in his trousers now reaching the point of being uncomfortable. "I think that would be for the best."

They both stood abruptly and headed inside, Cullen storming off in the direction of his office, and Dorian toward the dining hall; if he was to drown out all sounds of the nymphomaniacs' rutting then the commons would be the best place for it.

The dining hall was not as busy as he might have hoped, it was after all quite late in the morning by now and most in the castle had already broken their fasts, but Dorian found Sera and Blackwall sat at a table, laughing loudly. He grabbed a plate of food and joined them.

"You look like shit," Sera said, grinning impishly.

"Thank you, Sera, that's exactly what I needed to hear today," Dorian snarked back.

Sera giggled. "Them twos fucking's been keeping you up, yeah?"

Dorian groaned.

"Thought you'd be well into that."

"Well, I'm not," Dorian huffed.

"I heard your room's next to theirs," Blackwall commented.

"Yes, it is. What of it?"

"Ha!" Blackwall laughed out loudly. "I'm surprised you're not deaf by now the way those two go at it."

Dorian glared at the Warden. "I came here to get away from all of that, so if we could _please_ change the subject…"

Sera burst out laughing, her eyes locked on something behind Dorian. He turned, looking over his shoulder and cursed as he spotted Hawke and Anders enter the dining hall, hand in hand. Dorian turned back around, exhaling loudly.

"That is too funny!" Sera giggled.

"Varric couldn't have written it any better," Blackwall agreed, snickering.

"Yes, yes, it's _utterly_ hilarious," Dorian drawled as he watched Hawke and Anders settle down on one of the tables behind Blackwall and Sera, in full view of Dorian. He swallowed, looking away; the last thing he needed after the ruined chess match was for the two of them to ruin his breakfast too. But looking away, as it turned out was going to be quite a challenge.

"I love you so much," Hawke said, loud enough for Dorian to overhear, as the Champion began kissing his lover's neck.

Dorian groaned as he tried to finish his breakfast as quickly as possible.

* * *

 

Anders could barely keep the smile from his face as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose with Asher's while making kissy faces at him. It was the most cliché romantic gesture they could think of, but it was working. Anders could see Dorian glancing at them every now and then, and every time he did he would look away quickly, his hands tightening around his cutlery a little bit more, until his knuckles were white. The guilt was still there, coiling around in Anders' chest but he was in too deep now to stop.

"You must be starving after that work out I gave you earlier, so open wide, love," Asher ordered. Anders nearly burst out laughing, but somehow managed to keep a straight face as Asher brought a spoonful of food toward his mouth.

"Swallow, I know you like to," Asher purred. Anders could see Dorian coughing into his flagon at that and he smirked a little as he swallowed his mouthful.

Asher fed him a cherry next, the juicy fruit burst as he bit into it, coating his tongue with its sweet flavour. Before he could swallow any of it, Asher leaned in and kissed him. His tongue dipped deep into his mouth, seeking out the stone at the centre of the cherry. Ash pulled back a moment later, grinning as he pulled the small stone from his mouth.

" _Delicious_ ," Asher said breathily, making Anders' stomach clench.

* * *

 

Dorian couldn't finish his breakfast, not with Hawke and Anders feeding one another and saying 'I love you' 'No _I_ love _you_ ' over and over, it was too much. He stood abruptly, ignoring Sera and Blackwall's comments as he stormed out the door. He wasn't sure where he was going to go – no, actually that was a lie; he knew exactly where he was going. He needed a drink and he didn't care that it was barely afternoon.

The tavern was mostly empty, which wasn't all that surprising, only Bull and a few of his Chargers and some of the regulars were present. Dorian grabbed a bottle of their strongest whisky and headed to a table, alone, to drink.

He knew he needed to get used to this, he knew that down south things would be different, but he hadn't expected to come across a couple quite like Hawke and Anders. Nor, however, had he expected to feel quite this cold and empty because of it.

He took a long pull of the burning liquid, glad to have at least _that_ warming him.

* * *

 

Dorian _ought_ to have expected it, because they had somehow managed to show up everywhere else in Skyhold he had been that day, but he was still somehow surprised when the Champion and Anders walked in through the tavern doors, giggling. Their laughter cut through him like shards of ice, making his gut twist as cold settled over him once more. He grit his teeth then took another pull of his drink. He had fled from the gardens and the dining hall; he would _not_ flee from them a third time.

The pair settled in some seats across the room from him, in the shaded spot they seemed to favour. They sat beside each other, talking and smirking, hands already starting to wander. Hawke had his arm around Anders' back, while Anders was running his fingers up Hawke's exposed forearm. And Dorian, fool that he was, couldn't help but watch as that progressed into kissing.

Anders was the first to make the move, pulling Hawke's head back so that he could place a soft, slow kiss on his lips. Dorian watched the hand Hawke had on Anders' back stroke languidly up and down, fingers only digging into the blond's shirt when Anders deepened the kiss, pushing Hawke back further in his seat.

That seemed to be the spark that set them off. One minute Anders was on the bench seat next to Hawke, the next he was in the Champion's lap, his hands lost in Hawke's hair, fisting it tightly as he plunged his tongue into his lover's mouth. Dorian watched, his cock twitching at the sight, as Hawke's hands slipped under Anders' shirt to slide up his back, dragging him closer to him in the process.

* * *

 

Asher pulled back, breathless, his half-hard cock straining uncomfortably against his trousers and Ander's rutting hips. Anders started ravaging his neck instead, lathering it with attention.

"Is he watching?" Anders asked between kisses.

Asher stole a look at the Vint and found him staring at them through half-lidded eyes, his lips parted slightly. Asher smirked. "Can't tear his eyes away," he panted out quietly. He moaned as Anders bit down on his pulse point, his body shivering with want.

"Good. Grab my arse, if he's anything like you, that will really drive him wild," Anders whispered.

* * *

 

A quiet little moan actually left Dorian's lips as Hawke's hands splayed out over Anders' ass, then squeezed deep into the supple cheeks, lifting him closer. It had been so long – _too long_ – since anyone had so much as touched Dorian. His cock was straining against his trousers, desperate for some attention. He refused to give into it, however, not like he had done that first night, losing himself to the sounds of their love making.

It was as Hawke's shirt began to get tugged open by Anders that Dorian had finally had enough; he couldn't stay and watch a moment more. He fled, again, retreating to the library, to the last thing he could try to clear his mind with: research.

He pulled out all his magical theory tomes, big dusty texts, all from Tevinter –they smelled like home– and sat at one of the tables with them. He'd been wanting to improve one of his necromancy spells for some time; he had heard about a technique that allowed you to draw upon multiple spirits at a time, rather than just the one as he was used to. It would be tricky to master, but something challenging was exactly what he needed right now in order to forget about everything _else_.

* * *

 

"Has he noticed us yet?" Asher asked in a low, lust-filled, whisper.

"I don't know," Anders replied as he tried to peak out from behind the wall once more. "I can't see any more than you."

"What, you don't get some heightened senses shit from being a Warden?" Asher asked cheekily.

"You know I don't, just the extra stamina and hunger."

"Well, speaking of stamina _and_ hunger… get on your knees. I have an idea."

Anders whirled on him, eyes wide. " _Here?_ "

"You don't know what I have planned yet!" Asher hissed.

"I can guess!"

Asher snickered. "Do you want him to hear us or not?"

Anders rolled his eyes. " _Fine,_ but Maker's Breath, if we get caught by _anyone_ else _…_ "

"We won't," Asher said dismissively. "I already paid Varric off to make sure the Tower stays clear."

* * *

 

Dorian turned the page of one of the bigger tomes, his eyes skimming across the words as he searched for the paragraph he wanted. He had relaxed considerably, alone in the Tower as he was. It was rare for so few people to be around, but he had never been more thankful for it.

It was as he blew the dust away from the next page that he heard a slopping, wet sound coming from one of the nearby alcoves. He stopped reading and sat back in his chair, frowning. The sound came again and his frown deepened as he realised it was coming from _his_ alcove.

He stood up, ready to investigate, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a moan drift over to him.

"Vishante kaffas!" he hissed as he stormed over to his alcove.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he found Hawke in Dorian's leather chair, his trousers around his ankles, with his cock half way down Anders' throat.

Anders pulled back, licking his lips as a smirk spread across them.

"So nice of you to join us, Pavus," Hawke husked, a smirk at his lips too. He took his cock in hand and began stroking it, slowly, unhurried, making his whole length glisten with Anders' saliva.

"Just… just what do you think you're doing?" Dorian spluttered out, his eyes utterly transfixed by Hawke's throbbing length.

"Just having a bit of fun," Hawke replied, grinning. "Fancy a lick? You look quite parched."

"No, I do not want a lick!" Dorian swallowed, mouth dry. "Is this some kind of game?"

"It's a fun one, if so," Hawke mused.

Dorian looked to Anders. "I'm glad our conversation was so amusing to you, so amusing in fact that you decided to torment me with that which I don't have!"

"That's where you're wrong, Dorian," Anders said. "You _could_ have it."

Dorian blinked at them both. "What are you saying? Are you…?"

"Inviting you to be the jam for our bread? The cream for our pastry? The butter for our roll? Why yes, Dorian, that's exactly what we're saying," Hawke said with laughing eyes.

"You have a funny way of inviting me to bed with you," Dorian huffed.

"Really?" Hawke asked. "I thought it was quite _explicit_."

"Explicit, yes, tactful, _no_ ," Dorian retorted dryly.

"So I wanted to get you all hot and bothered first… big deal," Hawke said. "Just means I know for sure that you want to now."

"So you can kick me out come the morning?" Dorian snapped. "I've had my fair share of that and I don't care for another round of it, thank you."

Hawke grinned. "Ah, but you didn't deny _wanting_ to."

"Dorian," Anders said, "sex doesn't have to be cold, impersonal, emotionless… You're not in Tevinter anymore. Let us show you," he implored.

"I…" Dorian shook his head as he started to back away from them.

He turned and rushed down the stairs, ignoring their calls for him to come back. He charged through the castle, not paying attention to anyone around him, until he was finally back in his room. He shut and locked the door behind him then slumped against it, his whole body shaking like he'd just raced across half of Thedas. The lack of sleep, the lack of food, the alcohol still in his system, the anger, resentment, and bitterness, on top of the endless torment he'd been subjugated to all day finally boiled over and hot tears spilled from his eyes.

He told himself they wouldn't break him, that he wouldn't flee from them again. _Venhedis_. Damn them. He wiped his eyes angrily and then pushed himself up and stormed over to his window instead. His hands fisted on the sill with a white knuckled grip as he glared out of it at the iced over view of the garden. He took a few deep breaths, feeling his anger subsiding. He needed to think about this rationally, and yet his mind was about as fogged up as his window was from his panted breath.

It didn't take long for Hawke and Anders to reach his door again, both of them giggling as they thumped into the hardwood. Dorian could hear them moaning. His grip on the sill tightened briefly as he tensed. He needed space to _think_ or he was likely to make a decision he would come to regret.

Anders chuckled, muffled by the door as it was, it was quiet. "I think this-" He gasped, "Is the wrong door, love."

"Don't be ridiculous, I think I'd know my own door…" Asher replied. Sure enough the Champion tried to turn the handle, but the door didn't budge. "Huh."

"Told you," Anders whispered loudly. "Come on."

Dorian could still hear them next door, snickering, thumping about and moaning. With his cock twitching the way it was, it was clear part of him wanted to join them. They were an attractive pair – Anders and his rich amber eyes, that long golden-red hair, those slim hips and pert ass, and Hawke with his muscled arms, his bright laughing eyes, and his wicked, mischievous grin.

Their words kept playing over and over in his mind. He didn't know if he could trust them, if this was all a ploy just to fuck him. It could very easily end just like every other tryst he'd had. But the chance that it could be something different… it made his chest ache to see if it were true, if there could be real affection and not just lust. If it was a ploy, at least he got laid, and with the Champion of Kirkwall no less.

He stepped back from the window sill, looking at his door, still able to hear them moaning softly in the room over. They had invited him, they had gone to all of that effort to get him riled up. Well, it had worked and now he was going to take what he was owed.

Dorian left his room, walked the few strides it took to reach their door, then threw it open. Hawke and Anders were against the far wall – the one shared with Dorian's room, naturally – Anders' legs wrapped tight around the Champion's waist as they made out rather heatedly. Both men stopped their kiss, however, when Dorian entered, and turned their dark gazes onto him instead. He could see the predatory looks in their eyes, the hint of smug satisfaction, but also the relief too, that they hadn't overstepped and pushed Dorian too far away.

Anders' legs fell back to the ground, both men watching Dorian like, well, hawks. Neither took a step forward, however, almost as if they were worried Dorian would bolt again. But he was done fleeing, he'd done that all his life.

He flicked the lock into place.


	4. Just Warming Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian becomes the centre of attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo. I am back at long last and I bring smut with me! 
> 
> Just wanted to say a quick thank you to all those who have commented so far and left kudos etc etc. Love you guys. And thank you for being patient while I obsessively edited this baby. I've reached the point where I simply cannot re-read it again without the words blurring together so uhh, any typos are my own, yeah? 
> 
> Massive thanks to Carapatzin for the beta/critique/flailing. You are the bestest <3 
> 
> So yeah. I will just stop talking so you can all read. 
> 
> ~Chant.

Hawke was the first to prowl forward, his eyes hooding in a predatory gaze. Something smug and victorious played about his lips as he stopped a few feet away. "Look who finally decided to come play."

His lover shook his head, a despairing little smile lighting his face as he too walked forward. "He would have joined us sooner, love, if you hadn't insisted on toying with him all day," Anders pointed out.

Dorian narrowed his eyes at the Champion, feeling his stomach roil at everything he'd been put through today. He walked forward a few paces, coming to a stop in front of Hawke. "I should have known that was your idea."

"You mean because it worked?" Hawke replied all too smugly.

Dorian had height over him, not by much, but enough to make him feel at least a little superior. "I mean because it was elaborate and cruel."

There was a brief flash of something close to hurt in those deep blue eyes but it was quickly replaced by a playful tint.

"That's right," Hawke said as he began to circle him. Dorian could feel eyes raking over him as he stood there, head held high. "You Vints _hate_ being wound up. You like to be the ones in control all the time, especially you mages."

 _Well, at least he didn't say Magisters_ , Dorian thought in relief.

Fingers trailed over his shoulders as Hawke moved around his back, causing little shivers to whisper down his spine. "Didn't enjoy being toyed with, did you Pavus?" Hawke breathed against his ear. Dorian's nostrils flared as he inhaled Hawke's whiskey-scented breath and the overwhelmingly heady aroma of sex that clung to him.

"Not particularly." Dorian turned his head enough to look at Hawke and arched a brow. "As lovely as it is having you breathe in my ear, do you plan to just stand there and _talk_ all night?"

Hawke's grin was anything but nice. All wicked and smug, his eyes lit with the same emotions. "You actually think you're in charge here, don't you?" Dorian held his ground, meeting that insufferably smug gaze with an indignant one of his own.

Fingers suddenly slid into his hair, caressing at the nape of his neck, touches softer than anything he'd expected the Champion to give. And then Hawke's breath was ghosting over the side of his face, slightly panted and very warm. "We are going to make _such_ a mess of you."

Dorian's breath hitched in his throat and Hawke laughed as he pulled away and meandered back over to his lover, who until now had only been watching with an amused smile.

Hawke grabbed at his lover's loose shirt and dragged him forward into a heated kiss, one that left Dorian's mouth dry as Anders melted fully into it. Those healer's hands wrapping around Hawke's narrow waist, gripping his back and lifting up Hawke's shirt in the process. The tanned fleshed revealed drew Dorian's gaze downwards, to the sight of the tattoo inked over that hip—such a simple thing, all black, two creatures in flight; one very clearly a hawk, the other appeared to be a griffon, that clearly represented the two men before him. That this man was willing to permanently ink his skin with a very obvious image of himself and his lover on the run was, simply put, remarkable and terribly romantic.

He watched the two lovers, unable to look away as their hands slid across skin, greedily grabbing and affectionately caressing. Their moans filled the room, broken only by ragged breaths as they tried to suck in air between heated kisses. Dorian stood there, feeling his own arousal grow but suddenly feeling like he was intruding on a very private moment between the two lovers, which was just absurd— _they_ had invited _him_ here.

Just as quickly as their kiss had begun, it ended. Hawke pulled back, breathless, his gaze considerably softer than it had been moments before and Anders smiling a little dazedly. It was Anders whose gaze graced Dorian again first, smouldering and dark. He licked his kiss-bruised lips as that gaze roamed up Dorian's body.

"You're wearing far too much." It was such a simple statement delivered with an almost pout at those bruised lips and Dorian chuffed out a laugh.

"And just what are you going to do about that?" Dorian asked, feeling a challenging smirk spring to life at his lips.

It was the Champion that answered, rather than his lover though. "Get you out of them." There was a flash of a wicked grin as Hawke moved toward him. "It's the least we can do after teasing the shit out of you all day."

Dorian smiled. He was both glad and annoyed that he was wearing his rather complex under-armour currently. He doubted either mage would find it easy at all to get him out of it and that meant he might actually get to see Hawke somewhat flustered and frustrated by it. But after such a long day, watching them fumble with his outfit for hours on end didn't quite sound like his idea of a good time.

Anders was the first to attempt a buckle, his long legs having gracefully closed the gap between them. Pale fingers tugged at the leather string on Dorian's left, bared shoulder, and the cord easily came free.

There was a brief moment where soft fingers brushed Dorian's skin as they moved to the next one that had Dorian's skin breaking out in gooseflesh.

Dorian watched the healer, fascinated by the man's pale colouring. All that golden hair fell long and loose around his face, shimmering in the evening sun filtering in through the windows. The long locks curved at the edges over Anders' flushed cheeks, bringing out the molten amber of his eyes. He found himself staring at that beautiful face, admiring just how much Anders having his hair down, figuratively and literally, suited him.

Hawke, by contrast, came to stand at Dorian's right to tug roughly on the myriad of buckles on his right arm. He tried to loosen each of them without much luck before settling on one nearer to Dorian's shoulder. He watched the man, trying to keep an amused smile from his face, as the Champion impatiently shook a buckle.

Hawke blew his messy hair away from his face with an indignant huff, revealing the little crease of annoyance between his dark brows as he tried to figure out how to undo the troublesome strap.

"Just so you know, Pavus," Hawke said, his breath washing over Dorian's neck in a rush, "this outfit of yours is ridiculous."

"The term you are looking for," Dorian replied, nose high, "is _marvellous_. Although, it's only made so by the man within it," he added. He smirked as he deftly undid the metal clasp over his chest and tossed it back over his shoulder.

Hawke's eyes narrowed. "We'll just see about that," he growled. "First we have to get you out of the damned thing." Those narrowed eyes opened a touch in surprise as Hawke glanced over to his lover, finding that Anders had undone most of the buckles on Dorian's left side without any trouble at all. "Where do I even start?" he asked, holding Dorian's arm up and shaking it a bit.

Anders snorted in amusement. "The Champion armour isn't any better, I'll have you know." He ran his amber eyes over much of Dorian's arm and smirked. "Most of those are for show." He moved from Dorian's left to his right and threaded soft healer's fingers through Dorian's own, locking their hands together as Anders went to work on a buckle at his wrist. He couldn't help but curl his fingers a little into all that warmth with a small smile at his lips.

"Well, at least the Champion armour didn't have buckles for show," Hawke retorted. "It didn't, did it?" Anders shook his head, laughing softly. "Right, of course it didn't because it was armour worthy of a _Champion_."

"A good thing, too, I doubt you would have been able to dress yourself in it without me," Anders said, a playful smirk teasing at his lips. Hawke only snorted derisively in response.

"Imagine that," Dorian said, mischief making his lips curl, "the _great_ Champion of Kirkwall, outsmarted by a buckle."

Hawke let out a quiet groan, shoulders slumping a bit. "Varric better not hear about this." Laughter burst from his lips as he shook his head. "Oh, who am I kidding? He's probably outside right now taking notes."

"You'd only have yourself to blame," Anders admonished affectionately. "You're the one who got him involved in our teasing today." The healer gripped Dorian's hand a little tighter and undid yet another buckle with effortless ease.

"This _is_ Varric we're talking about," Hawke replied, "he would have found out regardless."

Anders chuckled as he let Dorian's hand drop from his and instead moved to undo the straps at his shoulder. "Nearly done here," Anders said. "Ash, get the straps on his back."

Dorian shivered all the way down to his toes upon hearing Hawke's first name fall so freely and fondly from Anders' lips; thankfully neither men seemed to notice as Hawke began to tug rather crudely on a strap at the small of Dorian's back.

"Easier said than done," Hawke grumbled.

Anders shook his head, smiling tenderly and moved to stand behind Dorian too.

"Allow me," Anders said softly and Hawke's fumbling fingers fell away, replaced by the long and talented ones of the healer.

"He's always been so good with his hands," Hawke breathed against Dorian's ear. Dorian smirked at him, turning his head enough to see Hawke return to his lover's side. "Isn't that right, love?" he asked. There was movement out of the corner of his eye and Anders let out a slight yelp, his hands jerking briefly at Dorian's back from whatever Hawke had done to him. Dorian suspected the man had squeezed Anders' ass. "I could watch you work all day," Hawke murmured, his voice muffled, broken up by the wet sounds of kissing.

"Thank the Maker we don't have to though," Anders laughed. "Done," he said as the final buckle came free.

"Now we get to peel him out of it," Hawke purred as his hot breath ghosted over the nape of Dorian's neck, making him shudder with anticipation.

"I do hope you're prepared to gaze upon such perfection," Dorian tried to boast, but his voice wavered just a little as Hawke suddenly brushed his crotch against Dorian's rear. He could feel just how hard the Champion was already and he swallowed thickly, throat suddenly very dry.

"We'll see if you're this cocky when I have you begging for it, Vint."

Dorian had to admit, he was rather looking forward to that.

Hawke's teeth grazed Dorian's left shoulder, the tickle of beard only adding to the shivers that trailed down his spine. He felt that graze of teeth turn into a smirk against his skin and then those teeth were sinking deep into his skin. He cried out, body jerking forward only for his cry to be swallowed by a hot wet mouth.

Anders had apparently moved silently around him in order to seal his lips over Dorian's; he happily melted into it, welcoming the slow and unhurried slide of their lips that was so different to everything he was used to back home.

Hawke's mouth, too, had gone from biting at the bare skin of his shoulder to licking that tender spot with a hot wet tongue. Calloused fingers joined it, scratching across Dorian's skin on their way to the wide fanned collar of his armour. Those fingers shoved it out of the way just as ungracefully as everything else Hawke had done, before a wet mouth and rough beard were exploring Dorian's neck instead.

That mouth found the thrumming point of Dorian's pulse rather quickly and sucked on it. Dorian couldn't stop the moan that slipped free, instantly lost to Anders' mouth. His head tilted slightly to the side, giving Hawke better access as he began to lick and nip his way down a strained tendon.

Anders' hand came up to cup Dorian's jaw, the pads of his fingers gently caressing his face. They gradually slid higher, until they were lost to Dorian's hair. Those delicate pads kneaded expertly at his scalp, all without overly mussing up his hair. The same could not be said for Hawke, however, as the he too shoved a hand into Dorian's hair to angle his head further to the side. That rough hand found Anders' rather quickly and their fingers locked together amongst Dorians' silky black tresses.

His kiss with Anders deepened as a tongue plunged into his mouth, sweeping through it with such force Dorian's knees went weak and he was forced to cling to Anders' loose shirt more tightly. With it bunched between his tight grip, he pulled the blond closer and tangled his tongue with the healer's.

Hawke continued to kiss and lick at his throat as he slowly worked Dorian's armour down, distracting him with a wicked tongue, sharp teeth and rough beard over ravaged and tender flesh. It proved the perfect counterpoint to the soft slide of lips and tongues that he shared with Anders.

He couldn't help but think how wonderful it felt to be kissed so… honestly. It was nothing like the rushed snogs back home, where the only agenda was ever sex. While that still held true for this, there was something more to it too, not that Dorian could put his finger on it while his mind was fogging with desire.

Lost to the kiss as he was, he hadn't realised just how efficiently the two men had peeled him out of his armour. It hung loosely about his hips now and both mage's pulled their hands from Dorian's hair to see it properly shrugged off. Anders' hands coming to rest at the front of his outfit at the left side, those soft hands barely grazing across his skin, the ghost of a touch. Hawke's was rough, naturally, grabbing at the right side and back.

Anders smirked against his lips and pulled back, tugging on Dorian's lower lip as he did so. Dorian blinked his eyes opened and stared breathlessly at him, noticing how dark with lust the man's eyes had become, gone was that warm amber, only a burnished ring of colour remained around dark pupils now. Anders' smirk widened into a playful promise of more before he helped his lover to tug down Dorian's outfit the rest of the way.

Dorian stepped out of it, knocking off his boots in the process too and leaving him nude all except for his black silk smalls which were, by now, doing a very poor job of hiding his arousal.

Hawke let out a low whistle of appreciation as his eyes raked over Dorian's body, and Anders' teeth sunk down into his lower lip, his stare lingering on Dorian's smalls and the half hard bulge it just about covered. Dorian swallowed, glancing between them both, waiting to see which would be the first to make the next move. He rather suspected it would be Hawke.

"Smalls off," Hawke ordered, voice sounding particularly husky. "Now."

Dorian smirked a smug little smirk and held up a finger as Hawke rushed forward to do it himself. "Hardly seems fair that I'm the only one in the nude here," he said.

Hawke practically growled as he came to a stop. "Feeling self-conscious, are you Pavus?" he asked, even as he began to pull his shirt off.

"Not at all, but it's only fair, after providing such an exemplary view as this," he said with a wave at his body, "that you do the same."

Hawke grinned as he yanked both his leggings and smalls down at the same time. With a kick they were discarded and Dorian finally laid eyes upon the Champion of Kirkwall fully naked.

He had to admit, his mouth went dry at the sight. Even Anders—who had no doubt seen the view countless times—had paused in the process of undressing to stare hungrily at his lover. Hawke, clearly pleased with himself, smirked smugly, letting one hand rest on his cocked out hip as Dorian and Anders ogled at him.

Hawke was more toned than most southern mages, certainly more so than half the Circle mages Dorian had seen around Skyhold, but wasn't overly-muscled. His arms and abdominals in particular caught Dorian's eye, perfectly defined with hard lines and a soft tan as they were. Much of Hawke's chest was covered in oaky brown hair and there was an enticing trail of it leading lower to the bush around Hawke's long cock. Dorian's eyes lingered there, mouth drying further at the sight of the hard and twitching state of it. He followed a bead of precum , licking his lips as it slipped from the tip and dribbled across that wine red crown.

A flash of movement caught his eye and he found Anders removing the last of his clothing, his leggings pooling on the floor at his feet. The healer smirked and slowly tugged down his smalls, much more teasingly than Hawke had done it as his hips wiggled, the fabric catching on his hard cock, stretching it until that pale pink shaft finally bounced free of it. The smalls dropped to the floor with his leggings and Anders curled long fingers slowly around his length and stroked, his amber eyes never leaving Dorian's grey.

Anders was thinner than Hawke, less toned, but no less an impressive sight. He was so pale, definitely the palest person Dorian had ever been with, and his hair so light, always shimmering. Anders' hair was thicker and redder around his cock though, a nest of tight little curls. Dorian trailed his eyes over it, following Anders' movements as he dragged a thumb over the rosy pink head, smearing precum right across it.

Dorian swallowed.

"Satisfied?" Hawke purred.

"Very," Dorian said, voice catching in his throat. He cleared it and hooked his thumbs under the band of his smalls, but Anders stepped forward, his warm hands sliding over Dorian's wrists.

"Let me," Anders whispered as he leaned back in and kissed him. His hands replaced Dorian's and pulled them down. Dorian stepped out of those too, and then Anders moved him back toward the bed, never breaking their kiss.

Hawke sat down on the bed, greedily pulling Dorian closer to him to he could kiss his way across Dorian's pelvis. Teeth grazed that bone and Dorian let out a kiss-muffled groan before Hawke returned to kissing and licking his way lower. Anders' hands meanwhile were in his hair and that rosy pink cock of his was pressed hard against Dorian's left hip, leaving a cold wet smear across his skin as Anders rocked into him a bit.

Anders pulled back a moment later to look down at Dorian's length, his breath hitching at the sight and his eyes growing hungrier.

Hawke grinned up at his lover. "Proper meal, ain't he?"

Anders moaned and joined his lover on the bed before dragging Dorian closer still, so he was standing right between the two of them, with both men at eye and _mouth_ level with his throbbing cock. They each rested a hand on Dorian's hip—Anders' soft and barely there and Hawke's rough, with nails biting his skin—as they both leaned back in and kissed their way across Dorian's pelvic bone and navel.

Two lots of panted breath washed over his weeping cock, their smirking mouths just inches from reaching it. He found himself holding his breath, waiting for the first of their lips to touch, but it never came. Instead all heat was lost entirely from that region as the mage's pulled back to share another heated kiss, leaving Dorian barely capable of stifling his groan at the loss and the sight. Their lips crashed together and Hawke shoved his tongue down Anders' throat, practically choking him with it. Anders moaned in response, his hands locking at the back of Hawke's neck to drag him closer.

"Don't mind me," Dorian snarked as he examined his perfectly manicured fingernails.

Rich laughter broke the kiss as Hawke chuckled and looked up at him with lust darkened eyes. "Easy there, Rich boy. They not teach you about virtues in Tevinter?"

"Not so much, no."

Hawke smirked and then that smouldering gaze lowered to Dorian's cock and he licked his lips. It was Anders who first took pity on him, however, as he wrapped long fingers loosely around Dorian's shaft and began to stroke at an unhurried pace. The mere fact that it was someone else's hand wrapped around his length when it had been _months_ was enough to see him hissing in a breath.

Hawke let out a short snort. " _Someone's_ not had any for a while…" he commented as his hand moved around to Dorian's ass. "I guess we'll have to make sure you're _nice_ and ready for us," he husked as that hand gave Dorian a rough grope, which had a groan rumbling out from his throat in response. That mouth then returned to kissing everywhere _but_ along his length, taking his time just as much as Anders was.

Anders changed the angle and pressure of his strokes, twisting his narrow wrists each time. And Dorian could feel his body slowly reacting to it, the heat that was gradually pooling at his core, warming with each languid stroke. He relaxed into it, into the steady rhythm.

He shouldn't have.

Anders surged forward, sealing his lips over the head at the same moment that Hawke bit down on his thigh. Dorian's hips jerked forward, thrusting himself deeper into that searing hot mouth and he couldn't even begin to try to mute the cry that fell from his lips. He felt Anders smirk and heard Hawke's chuckled laughter but none of that mattered as Anders began to bob his head and swirl his tongue properly over the sensitive head.

Dorian might find it rather shameful that his knees buckled from that alone, but in the moment, with Hawke standing and catching him before he could fall, he couldn't find it in him to care. Even less so when a calloused hand wrapped around his neck and crushed their mouths together.

It was nothing like the kisses he'd shared with Anders, this was a fierce, hard snog. One that had Dorian forgetting how to breathe with the savagery in which Hawke devoured his mouth. It was all heat and dominance, with fingers fisting in his hair and a hot tongue owning his mouth, licking away at every dark recess of it.

And between the two men, one ravaging his mouth, the other his cock, Dorian entirely forgot how to do anything at all. His hands were…somewhere. He was pretty sure one was clinging to Hawke's shoulder, the other at the back of Anders' head, lost to silky strands, but he wasn't certain, not when he was so completely overwhelmed with pleasure.

Anders' slow and unhurried movements continued to be the perfect counterpoint to everything Hawke did, the slow side of his tongue the opposite of the one surging through Dorian's mouth and stealing his breath.

Hawke dragged his hand through Dorian's hair, nails really digging into his scalp as he mussed up the sweat licked strands, making them spill over Dorian's forehead. Smirking lips broke their kiss and Hawke pulled back enough to admire his handiwork.

"Told you we'd make a mess of you."

Dorian had wanted to huff out a retort but Anders chose that moment to lick right across the slit and all that left Dorian's mouth was a pathetic little whimper as he was once again reduced to clinging to the Champion. Hawke let out a throaty chuckle and helped him stand upright again as he kissed and nipped at his jaw.

Hawke pulled away a moment later, leaving him cold, and reached across the bed for several pillows which he then tossed onto the ground. Dorian swallowed, knowing exactly what the man had planned next. Sure enough, Hawke and Anders both sunk down onto their knees, resting them on the pillows and bringing them even closer to Dorian's cock.

Anders went right back to sucking languidly, this time though, Dorian's cock ended up right at the back of his mouth, sitting right on the precipice of entering that tight throat and his legs trembled. A hand came up to grip the back of Hawke's head, his other still lost in Anders' silky hair as Hawke moved forward to kiss and lick at Dorian's heavily hanging balls. His fingers instinctively tightened in their hair as he groaned at the long-not-felt sensation.

As Anders pulled back, tongue swirling around just the head and slit, Hawke licked at the side of his shaft. Looking down, seeing two men on their knees in front of him, mouths on his cock, was already tipping him dangerously close to the edge.

That little fact wasn't at all helped by Hawke drawing a sensitive orb into his mouth and sucking on it. Dorian stifled a groan, knees trembling again under their double onslaught. Hawke hummed around his mouthful and that time, Dorian couldn't stop his groan, especially not when it came at the same time that Anders had his cock right at the back of his mouth again—teasing him with the promise of more, only to pull back at the last second and drag his tongue over the head again.

" _Please_." The word slipped out without him meaning to and he clamped his mouth shut in annoyance as two pairs of eyes looked smugly up at him.

Hawke drew back, letting his burden fall from his mouth. The cool air quickly dried the saliva slicked skin, sending all sorts of shivers up his spine.

"That wasn't _quite_ begging, now was it?" Hawke asked his partner.

Anders hummed out a no around Dorian's cock which had him groaning, before Anders let it fall from his lips completely. "Think we need to try harder, love."

Hawke flashed him a grin before diving in and sliding his tongue right along the crown. Dorian cried out, his hips jerking forward, and Anders swallowed him down properly, only prolonging Dorian's outburst. Heat overwhelmed him and that cry stuttered off into a ragged groan as Anders' throat swallowed around him, caressing his shaft. He barely had time to suck in a lungful of air before Hawke was adding to those delicious sensations by kissing and sucking on his balls again, making him hiss out the sorely needed air through his teeth.

Anders pulled back.

Then they swapped.

Hawke took hold of his cock instead and swallowed it down with as much vigour and roughness as he did everything with, leaving Dorian to pant and groan over them both, his fingers fisting their hair tightly. Anders continued his own unhurried movements, happily kissing and licking at anything he could reach as his fingers massaged his heavy sack.

Seeing them both sharing him like this, taking it in turns to suck on his cock, was easily the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

Hawke's head bobbed backwards and forwards, vibrations from his moans making Dorian moan too. That tongue was everywhere, lathering his cock with attention as it licked and flicked its way across it. Hawke's hand slipped around to grope Dorian's ass again, lifting a cheek and squeezing it roughly, pulling him forward so he slid deeper into Hawke's mouth with a hissed out groan slipping out through his gritted teeth.

He could feel the sweat breaking out on his skin now, the warmth that had gone from pooling at his core to spreading out through him, heating every inch of him. He doubted it would be much longer with them sharing him like this before he lost it entirely.

They swapped again, Anders returning to suck his cock down, but Hawke did not return to sucking on his balls, instead he lifted two fingers to his lips and let his tongue dart out to wet them. Dorian's heart thudded in his chest as he realised just what he planned to do with those soon-to-be-slicked up fingers. For once, it wouldn't be _his_ fingers back there but someone else's and that thought alone had a quiet whimper leaving his lips.

Hawke was all smugness as he pulled his wetted fingers from his mouth and held them in front of Anders. The blond let Dorian's cock fall from his lips and replaced it with those two digits, eagerly drawing them in and out of his mouth, getting them sopping wet. A hand still stroked Dorian's shaft, the soft fingered loose grip of Anders' healer's hand unhurriedly moving up and down and Dorian found himself rocking into it, unable to stop himself at the sight of Anders sucking on those fingers.

Those fingers were finally pulled free of Anders' mouth, wrinkled with moisture, and Hawke moved that hand back around to Dorian's ass. The anticipation of it all had Dorian holding his breath, just waiting for the moment he'd finally feel someone else touching his hole.

That breath was released in a hush ragged rush as those wet digits slid right up his cleft and pressed against his hole. Dorian cried out, his body jerking forwards and his cock kicking so hard he nearly came right then and there from that single exquisite and long overdue touch at such a sensitive place. Hawke practically purred in satisfaction below him and Anders watched on, enraptured by the sight of Dorian very nearly coming undone.

Hawke's fingers slid over his hole again, this time circling it slowly, sliding right around the edge of that tight little ring.

" _Kaffas_ ," Dorian hissed out breathlessly, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Again," Anders said, licking his lips hungrily.

Hawke smirked before he did so, and this time it wasn't a gentle circling of his hole, but a brutal flick, fast and rough, right across it, that digit testing the tight barrier of muscle before retreating, and Dorian once again couldn't stop the curse from flying from his lips.

There was a brief smirk at Anders' lips before he swallowed Dorian back down. "Hnnghh," Dorian groaned out, teeth clenched as he fought his impending orgasm. Hawke wasn't about to make that easy though as his fingers never left his hole, always circling and testing the fluttering ring of muscle's resistance.

It was too much. He couldn't fight it. Couldn't even warn Anders because any words he might have used were turned into another garbled cry as Anders took him to the back of his throat at the same moment Hawke gave his hole another hard flick. His seed shot from his dick in hot spurts, coating Anders' throat as his entire body shuddered violently.

Anders swallowed his seed down, eagerly moaning around him, milking him without so much of a gag while Hawke pressed kisses to his thigh, humming his approval as his fingers continued to tease his entrance.

Dorian whimpered and all but collapsed down onto the two mages, his knees weak and cock now limp. It was Hawke who caught him yet again as Anders pulled back, licking his lips and smiling contentedly.

"We're not done with you yet, Dorian," Anders said softly.

"Not by a long way," Hawke added.

Anders' fingers lit up, flickering a pale green, and as soon as that hand made contact with Dorian, he felt a wave of rejuvenation energy surge through his body, throwing his eyes open wide and making his cock twitch with interest.

"Maker's breath," Dorian muttered, breathing heavily.

The boys laughed and Hawke glanced up at him, his eyes back to being smug. "Now, where were we?" he asked as blue eyes roamed up Dorian's panting body. "Ah yes," he said as his eyes lingered on the curve of Dorian's ass.

Dorian swallowed at seeing the flash of a wicked grin at Hawke's mouth again before the man changed positions, dumping his pillow behind Dorian instead of in front of him. Dorian tensed up at the very thought of having Hawke's wicked tongue teasing him as thoroughly there as he'd been teasing him everywhere else. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt the hot rush of breath at his rear, his heart threatening to enter his throat.

The Champion's first touch was with his hands, both of them groping and squeezing at his cheeks, prying them open enough that Hawke's ragged breaths ghosted over Dorian's already fluttering pucker.

Hawke groaned behind him as calloused hands continued to knead the supple flesh. "You've got a mighty fine arse, Pavus," he husked. "So fine I could just…"

Dorian yelped, his eyes flying back open as the Champion of Kirkwall _bit_ into his ass cheek, his teeth sinking in deep. Hawke groaned into him and Dorian's breath hitched in his throat.

It was Anders' soft chuckle that drew his attention next. Dorian had apparently grabbed a hold of Anders' shoulder to steady himself when Hawke bit into his ass and he was gripping the blond rather fiercely. He eased up his hold but Anders simply turned his head and began kissing Dorian's hand. Hawke too, returned to kissing, this time soothing the bite-bruised spot better with mouth and tongue and Dorian couldn't help but press back into all that wet heat with a moan.

Hawke quickly moved on, apparently just as eager as Dorian was for him to have his mouth somewhere _else_. That fiendish tongue was put to good use, sliding right up the crack of Dorian's ass and making him shudder and moan shamelessly.

That tongue finally lapped at his hole, a quick dip of hot tongue against it but Dorian still jerked violently forward all the same, his gaze whiting out at the edges momentarily as a guttural groan was torn from his throat. It was only Anders nuzzling against his stomach, holding onto him that kept Dorian on his feet at all.

" _Fuck_ ," Hawke bit out, his voice sounding sex-roughed and breathless. "You taste as good as you look."

Dorian's pride was given a brief moment to flare before another flick of that tongue saw him cursing between clenched teeth. Those hissed out curses only increasing as Hawke moaned into his flesh, pried open his cheeks with rough hands and practically dove his tongue back in.

It got to work, leaving Dorian a moaning mess as it swirled around his pucker. Every moan, every flick and lick sending new waves of pleasure rippling through Dorian's body. Moans that fell freely as his hips rocked greedily back into that touch, desperate for more of it.

Naturally, Anders took that moment to return to sucking on his Dorian's now-hard cock and Dorian nearly spent himself again, so overwhelming was it to have Hawke's tongue ravaging his backside while Anders swallowed down his cock in one big gulp. It was only through sheer force of will that Dorian held off, his hands no doubt marking Anders' shoulders from his vice-like grip. Not that Anders seemed to mind as he happily hummed around him, his lips actually curving slightly with a smile.

Those hooded eyes never left Dorian's, the molten amber nearly as dark as his pupils now as he stared up at him through long lashes and sucked on the head of Dorian's cock while soft fingers stroked his shaft. Anders ran his tongue down his length, following a throbbing vein right to the base before he kissed his way back up and swallowed it down again. Dorian couldn't take his eyes off of him even as he moaned because of Hawke's tongue sliding more surely around the inner muscles of his hole, loosening it slowly with talented licks.

New vibrations travelled through his cock as Anders deliberately ran it long the roof of his mouth as he withdrew and then swirled his tongue over it, just like Hawke was doing to his entrance, leaving both his cock and his hole soaking wet and burning with desire.

Apparently sensing what his lover was about to do, Anders slumped lower so his head barely reached the top of the bed where he rested against its side. And then Dorian was being shoved forward; he only just caught himself with his arms as he was bent over the bed and Anders. The new position meant that his arse was now sticking up in the air, perfect for Hawke and his cock was now hanging down, right in front of Anders' mouth which wasted no time in sucking eagerly again.

Hawke spread Dorian's legs wider so he sunk even lower into Anders' mouth, all of his weight now resting on shaking arms as Hawke also went back to work. His cheeks were pulled open as Hawke sucked and licked at his hole, pushing his tongue in just a tad to wiggle it around the inner muscle before he returned to running the flat of his tongue over all of it. All Dorian could do was groan into the blankets, his whole body trembling so much he was sure he'd collapse before they were done with him.

Hands that could have belonged to either Anders or Hawke slid over his hips and thighs, massaged his balls and slid down his shaft, trying to relax his tensed and quivering body. Not an easy thing to accomplish with Anders and Hawke winding him up quite so thoroughly.

In the end, it was the sounds both men made that really had Dorian finally relaxing and rocking into their touches. They were both so vocal with their moans and groans—not only did they not care if anyone heard them, it also didn't _matter_ if they did. It felt so incredibly different to the near-silent romps he was used to back home where the fear of being caught always played at the back of his mind. To truly let go like this was… indescribable.

Hawke's tongue pushed in deeper, past the soft muscle and Dorian moaned into his arm as his body trembled, tensing slightly and then finally relaxed as he surrendered to that wicked tongue exploring his hole.

"That's it," Hawke murmured, his voice muffled as he continued to kiss and lick Dorian's hole, his hands now running soothing circles over his ass.

With him relaxed, Hawke's hot tongue probed deeper, immediately setting fire to nerve endings Dorian had either entirely forgotten existed or hadn't even known about until now. He screamed out his frustrations, his head burrowing into the blankets to muffle it.

He didn't bother hiding the next cry though as his head snapped back up with the arch of his back as they both upped their pace, sucking and licking harder than they'd previously been doing. Dorian's hips matched their new pace, bucking a little wildly as he chased his release. As they rocked back, Hawke's tongue plunged deeper into him, writhing enticingly inside him, and as they bucked forward, Anders eagerly swallowed him down right into his throat, moaning around him.

The fire finally reached boiling point in his core. His balls and gut tightened and a knowing shiver shot down his spine. Anders and Hawke noticed it too, how close he was, and both men reacted accordingly. Anders taking him deep into his throat, swallowing so those tight walls massaged the head of Dorian's cock at the very same moment those healer's hands unleashed a current of electricity that travelled from the base of his shaft where those fingers were curled, right through to his prostate. And Hawke plunged his tongue in deeper, writhing it as Hawke moaned and squeezed his ass with those rough calloused hands.

Dorian came with a yell, his head thrown back in ecstasy as his orgasm exploded through him. His muscles clenched over and over, drawing Hawke's tongue in deeper as he came down Anders' throat for the second time, copious amounts of his ropey seed once again coating that throat.

* * *

 

When Dorian opened his eyes next, he was on the ground, slumped against Anders' chest with the blond mage idly stroking his back and whispering soothing words in his ear. He felt the warm rag before he saw who was cleaning him down with it. Hawke smiled at him as Dorian cracked his eyes open and continued to wipe the worst of the cum off of them. Cum that had somehow ended up on Anders, most likely when his legs had apparently given out on him. He watched them both, his heart aching slightly at the tenderness of their actions.

"Such a mess," Hawke tsk-ed, that smile lacking its usual smugness. He swiped a finger across Anders' chest, gathering up some of Dorian's seed and then brought that finger to his mouth, moaning around it as he cleaned his fingers. "A very tasty mess," he murmured, eyes fluttering with pleasure. Dorian moaned at the sight.

"So," Anders said, getting Dorian's attention; he looked up at him, finding the blond smiling just as softly as Hawke had been. "How does that compare to Tevinter?" he asked as he pushed some of Dorian's sweaty hair away from his eyes.

Dorian snorted, his wit and charm momentarily lost. "It doesn't," he said honestly. "I doubt anything ever will."

Anders' smile turned a little sad, his eyes glistening slightly. He leaned in, pausing just an inch from Dorian's face so that they shared breath, their gazes locked. Anders' fingers stroked his cheek, brushing gently across the flushed skin.

"You never know," he whispered before he sealed his lips over Dorian's, kissing him with so much tenderness and adoration that Dorian's throat tightened as tears pricked at his eyes. He could taste himself in Anders' mouth and he focused on that instead, moaning softly.

"But, just in case," Hawke whispered, suddenly at his ear, "we'll make sure this night is _extra_ special." He let out a boyish laugh and Anders broke their kiss with a warm chuckle, nodding his approval. Dorian couldn't keep the smile from his lips even if he tried. He didn't.

Hawke suddenly hopped back to his feet, his hard cock bouncing with the movement. He clapped his hands, eyes sparkling with something mischievous once more. "Enough of this kneeling on the ground shit, on the bed you two."

Anders smirked and slowly got to his feet, stretching slightly once he was up. He offered Dorian his hand and he took it gratefully, his whole body still a little shaky, and allowed the blond to pull him to his feet. He wasn't standing long before Anders was pushing him down onto the bed and crawling over him.

Dorian moaned at feeling all of that flushed skin pressing down against him, their legs tangling together as they kissed again, Anders happily slipping a tongue into Dorian's open and moaning mouth.

He dragged his hands up Anders' slim back, dragging him closer still, the beginnings of something he hadn't felt very much this evening stirring in him again: his pride. They had utterly stripped him of it as they went about turning him into a moaning mess, but now _they_ were the ones painfully aroused and desperate for release.

How often had he bragged about how talented his tongue was? Certainly enough times that he wasn't about to let two southerners outdo him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the smut and the finale to this fic will be up at some point in the future *laughs* I need to do my edits, and then more edits, and then have it beta'd and blah blah blah. I'll try to get it up in a timely manner but you know how things are. I tried not to leave this one at too much of a cliffhanger so hopefully the wait won't be too bad *sheepish smile* 
> 
> I fully encourage any and all comments/thoughts on this one, the more graphic the better ;) 
> 
> <3


	5. Overdue Orgasms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The incredibly late 'finale' to this smut-athon. 
> 
> I can only apologise for taking this damned long to finish this. 
> 
> Got hit with writer's block/lack of motivation and meds knocked out my sex drive, which, by the way, makes writing smut super hard for me cause I just wasn't that into it. Was shite. 
> 
> Anyway. It's posted now, at least. 
> 
> I normally re-read stuff multiple times, but I haven't done that so much here, so apologies if I missed any errors or weird wording. 
> 
> And I cannot thank Shadow enough for going through this for me more recently (was that two months ago???? fuck). Without that, I don't know that I'd have ever got this thing done.

 

Anders dragged his hands up through Dorian’s hair, tilting the Tevinter’s head back further so he could deepen their kiss. The tickle of Dorian’s moustache against his lip was so different to the scratchy, rough beard he was used to from Asher and it made him moan as the silky soft hairs brushed against him.

He slid his tongue in deeper, wanting to taste more of _Dorian_ —all those spices and something a little citrusy that tasted exotic and sinfully delicious. He couldn’t get enough of it. Of him. And he ground his hips against the Tevinter, making his hard cock smear precum all over Dorian’s perfectly defined abdominals. Dorian responded with soft hands grabbing at his ass, dragging their sweaty bodies closer together and forcing a ragged groan out of Anders’ mouth.

He never thought he’d share a bed with another man. Asher wasn’t into sharing. Yet, here they both were, with Dorian— _fucking_ Dorian. It felt incredible. More than that though, it felt _right_. Dorian  clearly, had not had the best experiences back in Tevinter and that seemed to have skewed his entire perception of sex.  Anders was determined to show him that it didn’t always have to be a quick, hollow fuck.

It had hit him so much harder than he would have thought possible to see another mage, one never exposed to the injustices of the southern circles, with that same jaded tainted view on all things related to sex, love and intimacy. Here was a man from Tevinter, a free mage for his whole life - by all accounts a prodigy much lauded for his magical talent-  and yet, when it came to matters of the heart, Dorian's attitude and cynicism were the very mirror his own before Asher had come and opened his eyes to what the world really had to offer.  Seeing another suffering as he had,  trapped in that same wilful denial of any hope of affection… the healer in him had to make it right, and that Asher had allowed him this, it only made his love for his lover stronger even as he kissed another.

Anders broke the kiss, breathless, his heart pounding and cock aching, and glanced to his right. He moaned upon spotting Asher at the end of the bed, watching them both with a hooded gaze, his irises unrecognisable as blue thanks to his dark, lust blown pupils. He had a hand on his veiny cock and was stroking it slowly as he watched them, his teeth sinking deeper and deeper into his lip as he he watched.

Asher’s expression shifted slightly, his eyes lighting up a bit as his trademark smirk twitched to life at his lips.  “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Anders smiled and lifted his hand out toward Ash. “Come here,” he said gently. Ash took it and Anders dragged him down onto the bed with them.

Anders rolled off of Dorian, instead coming to lie on his side with Asher spooning his back. His lover’s hard cock twitched against his ass as his rough hands gently slid up Anders’ thigh and hip, sending delicious little shivers trickling through his body. Shivers that only increased as Asher planted soft-barely-there kisses at the back of his neck.

Focused on Asher’s caressing as he was, he didn’t notice Dorian shift until lips were sealed over his own once more and smooth, well-cared for hands were roaming over his chest, exploring the lines of his abdominals then  Anders’ fingers  found their way back to  Dorian’s hair nails dragging over his scalp as he tugged on those soft tresses,  until all of them were once again intertwined and interwoven, sharing each other’s physical touch in search of something less tangible

 

 Ash started to run a hand through Anders’ hair, really digging the blunts of his fingers into his scalp, and soon Anders was letting out an endless string of moans into Dorian’s all-consuming mouth.  His moans got louder as Ash started to rock into him, running the slicked up head of his cock right up the valley of Anders’ ass even as he reached down and wrapped his fingers around Anders’ cock and began to stroke him slowly.

Dorian broke the kiss, his grey eyes near-black as he watched Asher’s movements. He licked his lips, and then the Vint was kissing at Anders’ neck, biting down on his pulse point and drawing a rough groan from his throat even as he leant his head back against Asher to give the Tevinter better access.

“You look so fucking good like this,” Asher murmured at Anders’ ear, and Dorian let out a hum of approval against the sensitive flesh of Anders’ neck. He could only moan in response, so focused was he on the two men now surrounding him on both sides, pleasuring him.

Anders fisted Dorian’s black hair a little tighter, encouraging the Altus to suck harder, and _lower_. Dorian obliged, rolling his hot tongue across Anders’ collar bone, leaving a trail of fiery heat behind it; even as he moved lower, the skin he’d touched remained hot and Anders briefly wondered if he was using magic to achieve such an effect or if the temperature in the room was just _that_ hot that his saliva wasn’t cooling at all. Not that he had long to think on such things, for Dorian took that moment to bite down hard on his shoulder, making Anders cry out and his back arch, which had the head of Asher’s cock rubbing right against his hole. He shuddered, groaning and even Asher let out a hiss of pleasure from the sudden and unexpected pleasure that ran  up his cock.

“Not bad, Vint,” Asher taunted against Anders’ ear, his damp breath making him shiver. “You’ll never make him scream like I can, though.”

Dorian looked up from where he had his mouth over Anders’ shoulder, his teeth lightly grazing the skin and his lips curled into a feral grin. “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?”

Asher’s deep chuckle sent a shudder through his body and Anders could feel his smile against the back of his neck. “My, my, he’s awfully confident, isn’t he, love?” Asher whispered. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“I thought this was about him,” Anders gasped out as Asher slid his cock up the crack of his ass once more.

“It still is,” Asher replied huskily. “About letting him show off.”

Dorian scoffed against Anders’ chest. “I don’t need to show off; it’s not boasting if it’s the truth.”

Asher let out a low growl but Dorian just winked at him and then lapped his tongue over Anders’ nipple, making him moan shamelessly. He pressed his chest forward, into Dorian’s mouth so the Tevinter could suck more earnestly on the rosy peak. Not liking the way Anders pressed into Dorian, Asher took that moment to run his hands over Anders’ ass, groping it roughly. His lover lifted up a cheek so he could more thoroughly run his cock up the crack. Anders’ hips bucked backwards into the touch, moans falling from his lips as Asher began to suck on his earlobe. Sweat broke out anew across his skin with Dorian’s hot mouth working his chest, while Asher’s body warmed his back. Not that those drops of perspiration lasted very long on his skin with Dorian’s tongue lapping them up with  smirking lips and a devilish tongue.

Asher was the first to up the game, apparently, deciding he wanted a head start in knocking Dorian’s confidence down a peg. The hand that had been groping Anders’ ass slipped down to the crack and his teasing cock was replaced with long fingers. It was a ghost of a touch at his hole, but Anders stilled under it and a low whine escaped him.

“That’s it,” Asher mumbled into his ear. “You know I love hearing you.”

Asher’s fingers flicked more forcefully over his hole and Anders let out a cry as he lurched forward. His cry turned into a hoarse shout as his cock was suddenly swallowed down by Dorian’s searing hot mouth. He hadn’t even noticed the Tevinter move down the bed so his waiting mouth was level with his crotch as transfixed as he had been on Asher’s teasing fingers. Dorian hummed around his shaft and little vibrations reverberated through him, making Anders groan raggedly. Dorian took that moment to swallow it down deeper still, right to the back of his throat where he swallowed around Anders’ cock, his approval still rumbling out around it. Anders buried his face in the crook of his arm, groaning uncontrollably as Dorian slowly withdrew. His curled tongue caressed the underside of his cock even as the head of his shaft was dragged over the ridged roof of Dorian’s mouth.

His cock fell from Dorian’s lips and Dorian moaned. “Delicious,” he purred, making Anders peek out from the crook of his arm. He ignored the sweat licked hair stuck to his forehead as he found Dorian licking his lips clean. The Tevinter smirked and arched a single black brow at Asher in challenge.

His lover let out a chuffed laugh at his ear. Asher’s finger slide over Ander’s hole once more, circling the ring of muscle; it fluttered against the tip in response, desperate to draw it in, as Anders’ entire body shuddered and a groan fell roughly from his lips. Asher rolled his finger over his hole again, circling with a little more force just as Dorian returned to swallowing him down once more. The result was Anders’ hips buckling, both wanting to kick forward, deeper into Dorian’s hot mouth, and back to rock back into Asher’s waiting fingers. He was entirely pinned between them, completely at their mercy as Dorian continued to suck and swallow his cock, his tongue performing impressive feats of flexibility as it swirled around his shaft, while Asher upped his teasing to forceful flicks across his hole, making his whole body quiver with want, desperate to have those fingers inside him.

His hand raked across the bedding clawing at it as he writhed and moaned between them both; Asher’s fingers suddenly slotted between his, even as his lover’s other hand continued to torture him. Anders’ other hand was lost in Dorian’s thick messy hair, clinging to the messy strands for dear life as both men continued their rapid onslaught.

Dorian moaned around Anders’s shaft just as it was buried to the hilt down his throat and Anders felt every single vibration travel through his cock and then right up his spine; he gasped, his teeth sinking down into his lip as his eyes fluttered closed in blissful surrender. They did not stay closed for long however as Asher took that moment to take a teasing finger and pressed into his ass; his eyes flew open at the sudden and very welcome intrusion and he cried out, his voice breaking, cracking into whines and moans as Asher crooked that finger and began to massage that sweet spot, tormenting him further.

Dorian redoubled his efforts in the face of Anders slowly coming undone under Asher’s touch, focusing on the head of Anders’ cock with his devilish tongue, lapping it over every sensitive inch while his hands began to work his shaft. Anders quivered under that wicked tongue, a broken little moan leaving his lips as his chest heaved. Dorian licked the slit and the cry that flew from Anders’ lips was surely loud enough to be heard through the walls. Asher growled against his ear, clearly annoyed that Dorian had managed such a feat. Asher added another finger to Anders’ tight channel and began scissoring the blasted digits, stretching Anders but not filling him, even as Dorian continued to work the head of his cock, slowly sliding his tongue across it, and Anders whined in response, needing more, from _both_ of them.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged to nobody in particular.

Asher took pity on him first, returning his two digits to massaging his prostate, letting them rub and slide over it with a steady, unchanging pressure that had Anders groaning, rocking right back into Asher’s fingers, desperately trying to angle himself to get more of that euphoric touch on his most sensitive spot. Asher, however, could be a sadistic bastard even when he was being kind, and  continued to take his time with him, working the healer up until he was burning up, sweating and cursing under his breath.

“Louder,” Asher demanded in a breathy growl as he pressed his body closer to Anders’, letting that rock hard cock of his slide up Anders’ crack even as his fingers continued to twist and rock inside him. Anders moaned, a ragged groan, his lungs fighting for breath as Asher upped the tempo of his movements. Dorian responded just as eagerly as he greedily took him deep into his mouth as warm hands came up to massage Anders’ aching and heavy balls.

Even through the fog of arousal and the blistering temperature of his body, Anders had known right from the start that Asher would win this from the moment he got his fingers on Anders’ ass. They both knew it was his most sensitive spot, and more than that, Asher _knew_ how to work him up into a frenzy so that the only result would be him screaming as he came.

All his thoughts stuttered to a halt however as Dorian rested Anders’ cock back in his throat and swallowed repeatedly, having spent so long sucking on just the head, it was extra sensitive now and Anders’ eyes rolled back into his head as he let loose a throaty moan, surrendering to the fingers massaging his sweet spot and the throat caressing his cock. Anders’ moan only grew louder as the temperature in Dorian’s mouth increased, getting hotter than a mouth had any right to be. His moans turned into cries as the temperature continued to climb with each swallow Dorian took. Dorian finally withdrew a bit, sucking in breath through his nose, but the heat didn’t reduce and Anders continued to cry out, his entire body soaked in sweat. Dorian’s tongue slid over the head of his cock, right down the slit, that lick accompanied by some kind of tingling caress, and that was it. Anders saw white and screamed as he came, hard. He shot out streams of ropey seed right into Dorian’s waiting mouth as his body kicked and bucked and arched, locked in spasm.

Anders’ chest heaved as he tried to suck in air, his lungs burning. Dorian was smirking smugly, licking his lips clean and Asher let out a snarl from behind him, obviously not happy with Anders coming because of Dorian instead of him. Anders’ cock was still hard, however, and Asher didn’t waste a moment getting back to work with his onslaught on Anders’ rear. Asher’s fingers _plunged_ into him, full force, his fingers pounding his prostate with each short hard stroke which had Anders crying out in no time, incoherent pleas and mumblings leaving his lips between panted ragged breaths. 

It didn’t take much, Asher squeezed his prostate, pinching it between two wicked digits and then Anders was coming again, screaming and bucking wildly, his cock kicking violently as cum spurted out, coating his stomach and chest. He collapsed down into the bedding, gasping, his body trembling, his cock still mostly hard and Dorian seemed to take that to mean that this little competition he had with Asher was not yet over.

Anders let out a distressed whimperas the Tevinter took his cock back into his mouth, not so deep this time, so that he could swirl his tongue back and forth over the sensitive head more easily. That tongue dipped into the slit again, teasing and testing Anders’ sensitivity; he keened in response, burying his head in the bedding, his whole body convulsing. He stifled his next cry by biting down on the bedding as the temperature in Dorian’s mouth suddenly plummeted, prickling his cock with a pins and needle like sensation; it was incredible, overwhelmingly so. Anders was crying out, over and over as the sensation heightened, and just as it reached the point of numbing him entirely, _all_ the heat suddenly rushed back to Dorian’s mouth and Anders wailed as he was enveloped in an inferno which ripped yet another orgasm out of him, the most powerful yet. His cock kicked and kicked and kicked as Dorian sucked him dry.

Anders collapsed again, his vision blacking out. He drifted into the darkness with Asher’s chuckled words following him.

“I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face, Vint.”

**…**

To say Asher was shocked would be a little bit of an understatement. Anders had _passed_ out because of whatever the fuck the Vint had done to him, and damn it all if he wasn’t smug about it, too.

“I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face, Vint,” Asher said in a chuckled growl.

The Tevinter’s eyes darkened at that and he licked his smirking lips. “You are more than welcome to try, _Champion_ ,” he said in a mocking drawl.

_Oh_ that did it. Asher was on him in a flash, grabbing the Vint’s messy black hair and yanking him forward; he swallowed the man’s gasp, sealing their lips together as he shoved his tongue into that opened mouth. The Tevinter fought him, his tongue warring with Asher’s as he tried to wrestle for control of the kiss but Asher  was having none of it and simply forced his tonguedeeper, right down the other man’s throat, making the Northerner groan and shudder. Asher pulled back just a bit, but only so his teeth could sink down into the Vint’s lip, biting hard enough to draw blood as his fingers fisted black hair in a vice like grip. The Tevinter’s perfectly manicured nails were biting into the flesh of his shoulders, trying to push himself up a bit to gain control of the kiss but Asher just dragged him closer, growling, ignoring his lover’s unconscious form still lying between them.

The Tevinter’s teeth scraped across Asher’s tongue, before biting down hard on it; blood flooded his mouth as their tongues tangled back together and he let out a low snarl. He fisted the Vint’s hair tighter in response, ignoring the muffled cry he let out as he dragged him upwards so that Asher could step over Anders’ sleeping body without breaking their kiss. He straddled the arrogant bastard’s thighs where the man was knelt on the bed and dragged himself as close as he could get to him, so that their hard cocks were pressed flush against one another as he continued to devour that sinfully smug mouth.

Dorian groaned throatily as he tried to retreat from Asher’s relentless onslaught but Asher only chased his tongue further into the other man’s mouth, exploring every inch of that hot dark recess, tasting his lover’s seed and the sweet spices the Vint seemed to permanently taste of.  Hands scraped down his back, clawing at him as Asher continued to steal the Vint’s breath. He only moaned in response and yanked the Tevinter’s pretty head back even further as Asher swallowed down the man’s ragged desperate moans.

Asher thrust his hips into the Vint’s so that their cocks rubbed together; unlike Dorian, Asher hadn’t cum once yet; he was used to holding out for a long time, wanting to see Anders cum at least a handful times before he fucked him because even with magic, there was no keeping up with Warden stamina, but even he was struggling to hold off on just fucking the Vint into the mattress right now. He was so fucking hard, his cock dark red and veiny, swollen harder than he’d ever seen it, desperate to be buried inside the Tevinter’s hot channel. He rutted into him, sliding his cock against the Vint’s to relieve some of the pressure building at his core, letting out just as many moans as the other man was as he did so. He could feel the precum coating both their cocks, Asher even had beads of the pearlescent liquid running down the edge of his shaft, getting smeared about by the dark cock he was grinding against. It would be so easy to shove Dorian down to the bed and fuck him into the next age but that would feel like giving in and he wasn’t about to let the damned Vint get the better of him; no, he’s see both his lovers come apart again before he’d finally fuck the Vint so hard he’d see stars.

He did shove the Vint to the mattress though, making the man grunt from the force of the push. He followed him down to the bed, pushing his thighs apart so that Asher could press his body tight against the Tevinter’s before he once more plunged his tongue deep into his hot mouth. The Vint responded by wrapping his legs around Asher’s slim rest, his feet locking at the small of his back, their cocks trapped tight against one another, as their sweat soaked bodies rocked together.

The Vint’s hands fisted Asher’s hair, tugging fiercely on the long oaky strands, keeping his head locked in the kiss, even as Asher did the same to him with his arms locked either side of the Tevinter’s head; the result was both of them being trapped in the searing kiss, sucking in desperate breaths through their noses and the occasional gasp, neither willing nor able to break the kiss as Asher continued to grind into him.

“Mmm what a sight,” Anders murmured sleepily to their right.

That did break the kiss. They both pulled apart, gasping to stare at Anders who was smiling at them, his eyes half-lidded and a little dazed still.

Asher managed a smirk between his panted breaths. “I was just starting to think I’d have to fuck the Vint alone.”

“No chance, love,” Anders replied, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper so broken was it from the screams he had let out just moments before.

Asher leaned across and kissed him, softly at first but then more eagerly as Anders’ hand reached up and cupped his jaw, his fingers brushing across his beard, tugging on the rough hair and pulling him closer. Asher broke the kiss as the Altus let out a low purr of approval and he opened his eyes to find Anders’ other hand lost in the Vint’s dark hair, languidly kneading his scalp.

Anders turned his head to look across at the Tevinter with a dreamy little smile curling his lips. “That blow job…” he mumbled, still a little stunned. He swallowed and tried again, “that was incredible,” he said faintly, his eyes darkening at the thought. The Tevinter smirked and Anders leant over to kiss him hard on the lips, cupping his face almost reverently.

Well, that just wouldn’t do, Asher thought a little jealously. He wriggled off of the Vint, which was easy seeing as those gorgeous legs of his were no longer locked around Asher’s hips, instead having fallen listlessly open, leaving the Vint spread wide, his hard cock lying against his stomach, spilling yet more precum onto his toned abs. Asher resisted licking it off of him and instead focused on what he wanted to do next. Anders was on his side, mumbling and moaning as he snogged the Vint. But The Tevinter was still on his back with Anders leant over him a fair bit; that was problematic. He grabbed the necromancer’s leg and shoved it over his other, twisting his hip to the side in the process, not that the Vint seemed to notice or mind as he got lost in his snog with Anders. He had them both on their sides now, or at least, the parts he needed to be were, with their asses sticking out, within perfect reach for Asher to play with.

He couldn’t help but watch both men though, thinking they looked quite the pretty picture; long creamy white and dark mocha limbs sprawled out on the bed next to each other, both of them kissing slowly as hands explored one another, Anders’ long blond hair fanned out across the bedding, and the Vint’s black tresses mussed up and wavy from sweat and the hands that had raked through it countless times. They’d look a hell of a lot prettier panting and groaning, though.

He knelt between them, next to their hips as they continued to kiss, unawares of just what he had planned, his cock standing neglected in front of him. He ran his hands up the back of their thighs, his touch soft like the ones they were giving each other. He relished the gooseflesh than broke out across their skin at such a simple touch and continued to run his hands up and down their legs, watching as Anders deepened the kiss, unable to get enough of that exotic tasting mouth, not that Asher could blame him; the Vint tasted seriously good.

He dragged his nails up their legs and up over the curves of their arses, his breath hitching at how much meatier the Vint was than Anders with all that muscle hiding beneath soft skin. Asher was used to Anders’ pert but bony ass and he couldn’t help but give the Vint’s a good squeeze before he moved his hands back down their legs. Anders and the Tevinter’s kiss was heating up now and he watched, his mouth going dry as their tongues tangled slowly together between their parted lips, Anders’ cheeks flushed a rosy pink, the colour of the head of his cock, and the Vint’s perfect little moustache all askew, his eyeliner starting to smudge around his eyes.

Asher ran his hands back over their arses, this time sliding his fingers along the very edge of their cheeks, grazing over the cleft of each; the necromancer tensed, his back arching, his ass pushing back into the touch, Anders moaned and rocked backwards into his hand, eager for more than just a teasing stroke. Asher never could deny his lover anything. He ran his fingers up the crack, watching as Anders shuddered and groaned in response, his hips buckling, remembering the recent prostate pounding Asher had given him. He did the same with the Vint, watched as he jerked forward, his hands tightening where they gripped Anders’ shoulder.

Asher sucked on his fingers, slicking them up, before returning them to run over both men’s used and abused puckers. The Vint’s was tighter than Anders’, having only really had Asher’s tongue in it, so Asher worked it, circling the resistant muscle, while his fingers slipped easily into Anders’ hole and began to slowly, shallowly fuck him. Anders let out a string of desperate little whimpers, his hips rocking hard, trying to get Asher’s fingers deeper in him, not that Asher had any plans to allow that just yet. The Vint on the other hand- _ha, other hand_ ; he snickered quietly to himself- was trembling and had started to stroke himself as he desperately sought release, their mouths still locked in a desperate kiss.

Asher worked his finger his finger around the Tevinter’s hole, pressing into it now and again to test the tightness of the muscled ring, swallowing a moan every time the northerner’s hole fluttered against his finger, still slightly resistant. But finally his finger slipped in and Dorian let out a hiss and bit down on Anders’ lip which saw Asher’s lover groan loudly. He loved this, having them both at his mercy, being able to please both of them at the same time, and being able to _see_ them both reacting so vividly. The way their faces crumpled, eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowing, and their lips falling open and constantly breaking the kiss  with moans and gasps and ragged pants. The way the Vint’s hand trembled as he touched himself, and the flushed creeping over Anders’ pale skin as he gave neither any reprieve. They were, both of them separately fucking beautiful; but together they were breathtakingly stunning.

He stretched Dorian a bit with the one finger, running it over his prostate before he added a second digit and then really began finger-fucking him just as he was still doing with Anders. Rhythmic slow and shallow thrusts in and out, slowly driving the two men before him mad with lust.  Anders started to writhe, mewling in desperation, his face half-covered by his sweaty hair sticking to it. Asher could just see his jaw and mouth, the way he gasped against the necromancer’s lips only for the Vint to shove his tongue into his mouth in answer.

Asher slipped his fingers out of Anders but continued to thrust them in and out of Dorian; the desperate, pleading whine Anders let out at the absence of his fingers made Asher bite down on his lip as he restrained himself from caving and simply fucking Anders slowly and deep when he begged with him like that. Instead he called upon the Fade, letting the invisible magic ball in his hand. Anders’ head lifted, his eyes widening, knowing exactly what Asher was about to do. He smirked at his lover, even as Dorian looked on with the most confused little frown. Asher returned his hand to Anders’ ass, which had now tensed in anticipation, and instead of slipping his fingers back in he sent his force magic forwards in a rush until it hovered over Anders’ prostate and began to rock back and forth over it.

“Bloody fucking fuck~!” Anders cried out, his voice shattering as Asher intensified his magical massage so that it washed over his prostate, back and forth, crashing against it hard on each pass. Anders bit down on his arm, actually _screaming_ into it as he shuddered violently.

Asher chuckled upon seeing the Vint’s face; his eyes were wide with surprise, but lit with both curiosity and lust, and one perfectly plucked arched brow completed the effect.

“You’re in bed with two mages, Pavus, did you really think you were the only one who’d perfect sex magic?”

The Northerner visibly gulped and Asher grinned. Any retort the Vint might have had, was cut off, as Asher summoned magic to his other hand and sent it rushing forward to slam into Dorian’s prostate. The broken cry of pleasure and surprise that flew from his lips was one of the most satisfying things Asher had ever heard.

“Told you I’d wipe that smug look off your face,” he growled.

**…**

“ _Vishante_ _Kaffas_ ,” Dorian hissed out as his hand clawed at the bedding as Hawke rolled that magic _back_ over that same spot.

He had seen Anders’ reaction to whatever Hawke had done to him, had heard the curses fly from his lips, his eyes wide, had seen him bite down onto his arm to muffle his scream as he shuddered, but he had already seen how sensitive the healer was to touch back there, and had never expected just what Hawke had done to him, nor would he have been able to, for it was the single most indescribable sensation he had ever experienced. Force mages were rare in Tevinter, given everyone’s preference for blood magic, most knew elemental spells, it was true, but Dorian had never in his life experienced force magic used for pleasure. So when that initial jet of magic had hit him full force in the prostate he couldn’t have stopped the cry from flying from his lips even if he wanted to.

The magic tingled, vibrated, ebbed and flowed like water and touch combined; it was astounding really that magic that was usually used to toss people about the battlefield could be honed so expertly to be used in such tight spaces with pinpoint accuracy. Fingers and tongues didn’t come close to the levels of sensation his magic was capable of and Dorian was entirely helpless against its onslaught. Dorian would have marvelled at Hawke’s skill if the man wasn’t currently tormenting him quite thoroughly with it.

 He clung to the bed as the magic rolled over his prostate once more, surprising him by flaring in intensity as it slammed against the sensitive nerve-endings, making him cry out once more. Next to him, Anders was cursing over and over, just a string of barely legible ‘fucks’ and ‘please’ with the occasional ‘Andraste’s flaming knicker weasels’ thrown in which Dorian found amusing for all of three seconds until he too was cursing out rather colourfully once more.

He was practically face-down in the bed now, his kiss with Anders long since broken as that magic continued to rush and swirl through his channel, never going long before focusing back on his sweet spot. He was long past not wanting to give Hawke the satisfaction of seeing him beg, too needy now, to desperate to cum again. The magic was intense, but it always retreated just before he thought he might get tipped over the edge and it was infuriating, but of course Hawke knew that and had probably perfected this damned technique on Anders some years ago, not that the healer seemed to be coping under it any better.

The magic subsided and Dorian’s body relaxed again, no longer waiting for the next crash of magic to hit him. He caught his breath, his body utterly drenched in sweat as he glanced at the blond next to him in a similar state; Anders’ eyes were hooded and the poor man could barely lift his head at all he was so exhausted and fucked-out. Anders moaned then, a beautiful hoarse thing that stuttered out into a weak little mewl as Hawke returned to fucking him with his fingers, slow and sensual as he leant down to kiss his lover’s thigh and ass.

“I’ve got you, love,” he whispered. “I’ve always got you.”

Dorian’s heart clenched at the softness of the words and then Hawke’s gaze locked with his, blue eyes surprisingly warm. “I’ve got you too, Pavus,” he said as two fingers slipped easily into his hole. Dorian shuddered, practically purring in delight as those fingers thrust in and out of him in a gentle rhythm. Dorian’s hand found Anders’ in the messed up bedding and he squeezed it, their fingers interlocking as they both rocked back into Hawke’s sensual strokes.

Dorian cried out as that slow pace was suddenly replaced by magic thrumming over his prostate, pounding it. “Kaffas!” he yelled  “Haw-ahhhh.” His cry stuttered off into a scream as he thrashed on the bed as that magic continued to pulse over his prostate in a constant never ending, but always fluctuating, pressure. Anders also resumed his chorus of screamed curses, also writhing on the bed, his body going into spasm thanks to the overwhelming magic flooding over his prostate.

Just as Dorian was about to yell for Hawke to stop, the Champion pulled back his magic, letting it retreat like waves on a beach. This time when Hawke’s fingers replaced it, Dorian didn’t relax, knowing that Hawke’s magic would return with a vengeance shortly, probably with some new trick that would drive them equally mad. 

Sure enough, just as Dorian was getting used to the comfortable fit of two fingers rocking in and out of him, blissfully avoiding his over-sensitive and thoroughly abused prostate, Hawke’s magic was back. This time Dorian gasped, his head pressing desperately in the bedding below him as his back arched in delight as the magic swelled inside of him, filling and stretching his tight channel. It felt like a physical thing, a massive cock buried deep inside him. And then it started to move and twitch like a real cock too and Dorian couldn’t stop the moans that left his lips in a continual string, all of them sounding rough and broken like it a cock had been fucking his throat just moments ago. Even the blood rushing past his ears at being filled so completely by Hawke’s magic couldn’t drown out the cries of pleasure leaving the healer’s lips, loud and colourful as they were.

Both Dorian and Anders were close, that much was clear, from their weeping, swollen cocks, and the sounds of desperation they were both making as the teetered on the edge, begging for the Champion to shove them over.

“ _Kaffas_ ,” Dorian panted out. “Please, Hawke.”

“You cum when I tell you to, Pavus,” Hawke said as he landed a smack on Dorian’s ass. He jerked forward, biting down his cry but it didn’t last long as Hawke combined the magic he was already using with the magic he had been using before – both types, the wave that washed over his prostate as well as that constant damnable thrumming. Dorian thrashed again, trying to get away from the magic but it followed him everywhere, even without Hawke touching him. His balls tightened, readying for his release as cries flew from his lips. He was just about to _finally_ cum when Hawke’s force magic clamped down around the base of his cock, stopping his release in its tracks. He screamed out a curse, his fist slamming down into the bed in frustration.

“Not yet,” Hawke murmured as he dragged his teeth over Dorian’s ass. “I’m not done playing.” He bit down on the exact same spot he had bitten earlier and the same spot he’d just smacked and Dorian bit out a curse, body shuddering.

Hawke focused his attention on Anders, letting the magic he had working Dorian ease back just a little. Dorian watched in a daze, his face flat against the bed as Anders began to cry out again, his face twisted in a pleasured grimace, twitching just like the rest of his body as he thrashed and writhed. His whole body was shaking with the strain, his skin glistening with sweat and flushed pink all over. His hair was closer to brown now than blond, so wet with sweat as it was, and his lip had several cuts on it where the healer had bit down into his lip to stifle a cry. Hawke was rubbing his ass with both his hands as he kissed Anders’ lower back, whispering soothing words to his lover.

“Please, Ash, please,” Anders chanted over and over, his eyes squeezed shut, close to tears. Something softened on Hawke’s face, his brows lifting and the hard edge to his eyes vanishing as a small smile touched his lips.

“Anything for you.”

Hawke leaned back and then twisted his wrist, his brows threaded together as he focused.

Dorian watched as Anders came with an anguished sounding scream, his entire body jerking and arching as his ropey seed spirted all over the sheets. He collapsed down to the bedding a moment later, practically passing out again as he slumped into the bed, chest heaving, with the most blissful smile Dorian had ever seen stretching across his face. Hawke gave Anders one final kiss on the small of his back before his dark eyes found Dorian again. Dorian gulped.

And then the magic that that been slowly thrumming inside of him hit him full force once again, knocking the breath out of his lungs with its intensity. He jerked, sucking in huge gulps of air as the magic pounded against his prostate, slamming into and rolling over it all at once with that damned indescribable feeling again. Dorian’s body tightened, close to release once more, his balls aching almost painfully, feeling full to the point of bursting. Finally Hawke let go of the strangle hold he had on his cock, and instead swirled that magic over _every_ part of his cock all at once at the same moment he hit Dorian’s prostate with the most powerful blast of magic yet.

If an orgasm could truly explode out of someone, that’s exactly what happened to Dorian at that very moment. He passed out briefly from the force of it ripping through him, and when he came to, his throat was raw from screaming and he was lying on soaking wet sheets, his entire body aching all over.

He peeked out of one eye and found Anders sat up and leant back against Hawke who had lifted a potion to his lips and was gently tipping the contents back into Anders’ mouth. Hawke kissed at the healer’s neck as he did so, cherishing him and comforting him. Hawke noticed his stare and smiled. Then with a flick of his wrist he lifted a flask with his magic and moved it closer to Dorian.

“Drink up, Dorian, you’ve lost a lot of fluids,” he said with a touch of a smirk.

Dorian nodded and lifted his head enough to drink the fruity liquid. He blinked, surprised by the strength of the taste and the sudden revitalisation he felt.

Hawke chuckled. “Rejuvenation potion mixed in with lyrium, a healing potion and a shit load of fruit juice and just a tiny bit of alcohol,” he explained. “It’s one hell of a pick me up.”

“You don’t say,” Dorian said, smiling in wonder at the brightly coloured drink. “Remind me to get the recipe off of you later…” Hawke grinned.

Anders cracked his neck, looking much more awake and he turned his head slightly to kiss his lover. It was a brief kiss but a tender one and Dorian watched, unable to look away from the beautiful sight of the two lovers wrapped in each other’s arms. He didn’t feel like an outsider intruding however, instead he felt like a close confidant invited in to see something so few had ever witnessed: the tenderness of Hawke, the sensual caring lover that always remained hidden to the outside world under his jokes and games.

Anders broke the kiss a moment later and gave Hawke’s hard cock a teasing stroke which had Hawke hissing in violently – Maker, he still hadn’t cum once this evening; Dorian had no idea how he wasn’t slamming them both to the bed right now to fuck their brains out. Anders lay down on the bed, but surprisingly instead of dragging Hawke down with him, he held out a hand for Dorian. He glanced at Hawke first, and the Champion gave him a small nod. Dorian took Anders hand and got dragged on top of him and into a clumsy kiss. A wet mouth still tasting of that drink slid against his, and a lazy tongue dipped across Dorian’s lower lip, inviting him to open his mouth. He obliged and Anders’ tongue invaded his mouth, exploring and tasting unhurriedly as the healer wrapped both his hands around Dorian’s neck, practically hugging him closer to him.

He found his cock getting hard rather rapidly thanks to the drink and soon it was twitching against Anders’ own where they were trapped between their bodies. Their kiss grew more heated and soon it was Dorian’s tongue invading Ander’s mouth, chasing his tongue and tangling with it, sliding over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Dorian groaned, fisting Anders’ hair so he could tug his head back further and deepen their contact and Anders’ fingers urged him on as they kneaded his scalp, running through his hair with a little more desperation now.

“Please,” Anders begged as his legs fell open even more. “Fuck me, Dorian.”

Dorian shuddered at the vulnerability in both the healer’s eyes and his voice as he stared down at those burned amber eyes and that beautiful face of his. He gave him a devastating little smile and then shifted, lining himself up with Anders’ entrance. He glanced back at the healer, their eyes locking and then he thrust in, hard.

Dorian's head lolled back as he groaned long and hard at the tight hot heat that enveloped his cock. Below him, Anders was whimpering in delight, body quivering as his channel fluttered around him, accommodating him despite the work out Hawke had given it. He waited all that heat consuming his cock, for Anders to give him the nod. When he finally did, Dorian didn’t waste a moment in moving, drawing out so he could snap his hips forward and thrust back in, hard. Anders’ hands tightened in his hair, dragging him down for another clumsy kiss as they began to move together; Anders’ hips rocking upwards, angled so that Dorian could plunge in deep, grazing the healer’s prostate with each stoke.

They both gasped and moaned together, their kisses breaking only to share breath and stare briefly into each other’s’ eyes. This wasn’t sex, this was making love, there was no denying that, and Dorian whimpered at the thought, his eyes prickling with tears but Anders kissed him again, pouring all his want and need and compassion into it. Dorian suddenly felt a hand squeezing his ass and his eyes flew open. He had entirely forgotten about Hawke.

The Champion chuckled. “I’m insulted you forgot about me, Pavus. No worries though, you won’t soon do it again.” Dorian’s mouth went dry, and then his breath hitched as the head of Hawke’s cock pressed against him. It was considerably girthier than Hawke’s fingers had been, and Hawke’s magic hadn’t stretched his entrance much either but Hawke pushed forward, past the ring of muscle, making Dorian hiss as he was stretched properly for the first time in _months_. That delicious stretch continued as Hawke thrust right into him and Dorian let out a ragged gasp, his movements halted as he tried to breathe through the pain of having such a swollen and hard cock buried in him to the hilt.

Despite Hawke having not cum once their entire evening together, he was patient, waiting until Dorian was comfortable and ready to move again, which didn’t take long at all considering how desperate he was to move with his cock still buried deep inside Anders’ clenching walls. He gave Hawke a nod, and then they were moving, all three of them, Dorian and Hawke’s hips snapping forwards at the same time, Dorian hissing in pained pleasure, Hawke grunting breathily behind him, and Anders moaning and caterwauling beneath them both.

Dorian’s arms trembled where they were holding his weight up and his head hung heavy on his neck, his breathing hard and ragged as  he sealed his lips over Anders’, muffling the blond’s panted, moans and pleas. He groaned through a particular hard thrust, his own hips shoved forward into Anders’, until he was so deep in the pale mage before him that he was losing track of where he ended and the other man began. He brushed Anders hair clear of his sweaty dewed brow to better see those lust fogged eyes staring up at him, to see the way they rolled back slightly into his head with each thrust over his sweet spot and the desperate little whine that escaped passed his teeth each time Hawke's thrusts slammed Dorian back into him.

Dorian could feel his own face crumple every time his cock sunk deep into Anders, the healer's internal walls clamping down on him, squeezing till Dorian couldn't breathe, only to have what little breath he'd stolen driven from him as Hawke’s cock burrowed just as deeply between his own cheeks, relentlessly driving right to the hilt, pulsing and burning with preternatural heat. He could feel every twitch of Hawke’s swollen shaft, could feel the thick veins sliding in and out of his stretched ring of muscle, could feel that hard rod throbbing in time with Hawke’s rapid heartbeat, and he groaned, his rhythm momentarily faltering under the onslaught of it all.

  Hawke, however, was relentless and his hands gripped Dorian's hips tighter, and dragged him back, only to slam into him again, shoving him forward into Anders, so that the Champion was essentially fucking them both. Dorian let him, so lost was he to the sensations of pounding into Anders’ tight heat while also getting stuffed full himself, that even his own astronomical pride couldn't be roused to fight the other mage for control.

Maker, he’d had threesomes in the past, but he didn’t think anything quite compared to having the Champion of Kirkwall fucking him hard up the arse while his lover wantonly begged for more so hard his voice would break with each desperate plea and brutal thrust below them both.

“Please, oh fuck, please,” Anders wailed as his hands across Dorian’s back, his eyes rolling back into his head as he was driven closer and closer to the edge. Dorian kissed him again, if only to stop himself from screaming as Hawke altered his angle to slam directly into his prostate with his every thrust. But even that wasn’t enough and soon he was moaning like a bitch in heat, his entire body tensing, approaching his release.

“Yes!” Hawke yelled as he fucked Dorian full force, making his teeth snap together with his every thrust.

The Champion shifted again, this time all of his weight came down on Dorian as he loomed over him, his chest flat against Dorian’s back, quite literally sandwiching him between Hawke and his lover, their sweaty bodies sliding together as Hawke’s hips continued to snap forward, punishing them both with the brutality and force of his thrusts. The Champion draped his hand over Dorian’s, holding it, their fingers clutched together against the messed up sheets; Hawke’s other hand found the side of Anders’ head and he started to run his fingers through all that sweaty blond hair as Hawke continued to chant out more broken cheers and whispered encouragements against Dorian’s ear, his hot breathy grunts sending shivers of delight down Dorian’s spine.

He was burning up, dripping with sweat, his core tensing and tightening. His balls were heavy and aching painfully as they rocked with each powerful thrust from Hawke, putting him closer and closer to the edge every time. He was crying out in unison with Anders now, incoherent cries as Hawke continued, his thrusts picking up speed as he too approached his climax.

Dorian was barely able to string together a coherent sentence now. There was just the endless movement. The sounds of desperate men all straining and struggling to find release.  The sharp slapping, and softer squelch of skin and flesh coming together in violent need that blocked out every other sound. The pounding of a had cock into right into his prostate as one cock slid in deep within him  and the satin fire of his own shaft plunging into another's scalding, throbbing walls. 

Above him, Hawke was unravelling quickly just as below him Anders' was close to cumming too.  Dorian could almost taste the other man's euphoria. And there, trapped between them, Dorian's world collapsed in around him until he and his two partners were all that existed in it.

It was inevitable really that Dorian would be the first to fall apart.

His orgasm ripped through him, near tearing him apart with its ferocity. He screamed, his seed spurting out of him, coating those clenching walls as his head fell forward. His teeth found flesh and next he knew, his teeth were sinking into Anders’ shoulder as he tried to hold on for dear life. And still it tore through him.

Hawke came next with a triumphant roar, his seed quite literally rushing out of him like a flood, filling Dorian to the brim with hot spunk, which saw Dorian’s orgasm redouble and him, consequently screaming for it again. This in Turn seemed to throw Anders over the edge too, his walls constricting around Dorian’s cock like and viper, drawing him in deeper as Anders’ cock kicked, coating the blond’s pale chest in endless trails  of ropey seed.

Dorian must have passed out again as his eyes fluttered open to an awareness he was suddenly much more sandwiched between his two partners, Hawke draped like a hot sweaty incredibly heavy blanket over him and Anders barley managing to draw shallow exhausted breath under their combined dead weight.  Hawke reacted to then situation first causing Dorian to let out a pained groan of loss as The Champion pulled out of him and rolled off of him, onto the bed on his lover's left. Dorian slipped out of Anders next and flopped down next to the blond’s other side, his heart still pounding and lungs burning but finally feeling relaxed, sated… content.

He glanced at the two lovers next to him, seeing Anders’ eyes drift close, a smile on his face as he turned onto his side and snuggled into Dorian, those gentle hands of his wrapping around Dorian’s arm as his face nuzzled into him. Behind the healer, Hawke half sat with a groan to grab one of the tangled discarded blankets from the floor, and then draped it over Dorian and Anders before  wriggling under it himself and shifting closer to his lover, wrapping his arm around his waist.  

Over Anders' gently snoring form, Hawke's eyes briefly met his own, and the other man gave Dorian a fond, if dazed, little smirk before, he too, promptly passed out.

Sleep, despite his exhausted state, was slower in coming to Dorian. For a time, probably no more a few moments -though it felt longer in the ringing silence of the previously cacophonous clamour bed chamber- Dorian just watch the two lovers sleep.  Simply watched, and absorbed the ambience radiating off the pair; calm, restful, and completely accepting of his presence in their bed. Dorian watched and finally something inside of him let go. A stillness in his chest, he'd not even been aware of fluttered, trembled, and then with a deep breath, started to move.

And Dorian sighed contentedly, relaxing in a way he'd not in many years as his body ached satisfyingly and, when sleep finally came to him, Dorian too, was smiling.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this was part of a series, and, in my head, it is. Whether I will actually get it down on paper---internet paper---is another question entirely. 
> 
> We shall see. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for being stupidly patient. 
> 
> <3


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